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 Singapore and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Curtis Mayfield to the grunge 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
kango's stein massive,
Lou Reed,
Nirvana,
Terrestrial Tones,
Archie Shepp,
The Sonics,
Swans,
Warsaw,
Agent Orange,
Rod Modell,
Sound Behaviour,
U.S. Maple,
The Moleskins,
Darondo,
T. Rex,
Faust,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
New Age Steppers,
Josef K,
Throbbing Gristle,
La Düsseldorf,
The Cure,
Lou Christie,
Flamin' Groovies,
Junior Murvin,
Theoretical Girls,
The Zeros,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Radiohead,
The Young Rascals,
Rites of Spring,
Pet Shop Boys,
Blancmange,
Grey Daturas,
Jawbox,
The Mummies,
The Blackbyrds,
The United States of America,
Dawn Penn,
Neu!,
Suburban Knight,
Q65,
Little Man,
Bad Manners,
Skaos,
Silicon Teens,
the Slits,
Yellowson,
Mo-Dettes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scion,
Brand Nubian,
Derrick Morgan,
The Sound,
Alice Coltrane,
The Leaves,
The Buckinghams,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.