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 Dominican Republic and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 synthesizer 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 The Gun Club 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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
L. Decosne,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fear,
Black Bananas,
Bobby Womack,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lou Christie,
The Sonics,
Prince Buster,
Swell Maps,
Archie Shepp,
Pole,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Misunderstood,
The American Breed,
Eric Dolphy,
Arab on Radar,
Slick Rick,
Gang Starr,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Avey Tare,
Ponytail,
Thompson Twins,
Rapeman,
The Techniques,
Leonard Cohen,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Silicon Teens,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Peter & Gordon,
Index,
Theoretical Girls,
U.S. Maple,
John Holt,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Blackbyrds,
DJ Style,
Little Man,
The Gories,
Motorama,
Chris Corsano,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
KRS-One,
H. Thieme,
Agitation Free,
The Mummies,
Bush Tetras,
Flash Fearless,
Inner City,
Ituana,
Brand Nubian,
Los Fastidios,
Donald Byrd,
Metal Thangz,
Nick Fraelich,
Joe Finger,
The Moody Blues,
the Slits,
EPMD,
Tomorrow,
Lebanon Hanover,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.