Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Chile and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Maurizio to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Raincoats,
X-101,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Accadde A,
Godley & Creme,
Wally Richardson,
Loose Ends,
OOIOO,
The Move,
Laurel Aitken,
Spoonie Gee,
The Toasters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
FM Einheit,
Rufus Thomas,
Dennis Brown,
The Velvet Underground,
The Electric Prunes,
10cc,
Smog,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Index,
Lyres,
Archie Shepp,
Metal Thangz,
Unrelated Segments,
Bauhaus,
Jerry's Kids,
The Star Department,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Arcadia,
Curtis Mayfield,
Reuben Wilson,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sällskapet,
Ken Boothe,
Amazonics,
Kurtis Blow,
Nils Olav,
Niagra,
Kool Moe Dee,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Pretty Things,
Darondo,
Harpers Bizarre,
Siglo XX,
The Golliwogs,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Techniques,
The Smiths,
The Remains,
Anthony Braxton,
T. Rex,
Connie Case,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Frankie Knuckles,
John Foxx,
Cheater Slicks,
Interpol,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.