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 Uruguay and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fad Gadget to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Judy Mowatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
The Cramps,
The Birthday Party,
Inner City,
T. Rex,
Sugar Minott,
Icehouse,
Urselle,
Arcadia,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Selecter,
Tears for Fears,
Nick Fraelich,
the Swans,
Animal Collective,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Roger Hodgson,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wasted Youth,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sällskapet,
T.S.O.L.,
Sex Pistols,
Black Sheep,
The Grass Roots,
Archie Shepp,
The Knickerbockers,
Danielle Patucci,
Ornette Coleman,
Radio Birdman,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Sonics,
Lakeside,
The Misunderstood,
Brass Construction,
Jacques Brel,
Don Cherry,
The Gladiators,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sound Behaviour,
Barbara Tucker,
The Beau Brummels,
Underground Resistance,
Q and Not U,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Quadrant,
Boredoms,
Connie Case,
Parry Music,
Whodini,
Glenn Branca,
Stetsasonic,
Carl Craig,
Barrington Levy,
The Pretty Things,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Talk Talk,
Tropical Tobacco,
Circle Jerks,
Ossler,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.