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 Brazil and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 a-ha to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
Theoretical Girls,
the Bar-Kays,
Junior Murvin,
In Retrospect,
Camouflage,
World's Most,
Jeff Lynne,
Ohio Players,
Dawn Penn,
Supertramp,
James White and The Blacks,
The Walker Brothers,
Ronnie Foster,
Hot Snakes,
Lightning Bolt,
Gang Gang Dance,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Five Americans,
Frankie Knuckles,
Altered Images,
Eric B and Rakim,
Brothers Johnson,
Intrusion,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kenny Larkin,
8 Eyed Spy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Suburban Knight,
Boredoms,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Throbbing Gristle,
Donny Hathaway,
Procol Harum,
The Doobie Brothers,
Erykah Badu,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Flipper,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Panda Bear,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Excepter,
Make Up,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dave Gahan,
Absolute Body Control,
Maleditus Sound,
Marmalade,
Gregory Isaacs,
Swell Maps,
The Litter,
The Smoke,
Crime,
Sixth Finger,
Rites of Spring,
These Immortal Souls,
The Slits,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Avey Tare,
Harmonia,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.