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 Pakistan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The J.B.'s record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tommy Roe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
Desert Stars,
Danielle Patucci,
Joensuu 1685,
Kurtis Blow,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Electric Prunes,
L. Decosne,
Masters at Work,
Black Sheep,
Little Man,
Groovy Waters,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fugazi,
Skriet,
The Slackers,
T. Rex,
The Toasters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Mr. Review,
Cameo,
The Sound,
Deadbeat,
Youth Brigade,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Pretty Things,
FM Einheit,
Eddi Front,
The Tremeloes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Aaron Thompson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Terry Callier,
Arthur Verocai,
Faraquet,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Robert Hood,
the Bar-Kays,
The Names,
David Axelrod,
Siglo XX,
Quantec,
The Offenders,
Gang Gang Dance,
Scientists,
Infiniti,
Erasure,
Lalo Schifrin,
Royal Trux,
David McCallum,
Unwound,
Subhumans,
Bronski Beat,
The Fugs,
Lee Hazlewood,
Technova,
Pagans,
Sonny Sharrock,
Boz Scaggs,
Lungfish,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.