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 Norway and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron 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 Standells to the electroclash 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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marshall Jefferson,
The Fuzztones,
The Last Poets,
Rekid,
Eddi Front,
Magazine,
The Gap Band,
Harpers Bizarre,
Can,
Scott Walker,
A Certain Ratio,
These Immortal Souls,
Black Bananas,
Bush Tetras,
Dennis Brown,
Peter & Gordon,
K-Klass,
Accadde A,
the Slits,
Throbbing Gristle,
D'Angelo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hoover,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Saints,
Lalann,
Sarah Menescal,
Saccharine Trust,
Pet Shop Boys,
Zero Boys,
Lakeside,
Radiohead,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Durutti Column,
Altered Images,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Popol Vuh,
The Standells,
Alton Ellis,
John Foxx,
Make Up,
Joe Finger,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Eric B and Rakim,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ten City,
Motorama,
Pussy Galore,
Godley & Creme,
The Electric Prunes,
Soul II Soul,
Joy Division,
Graham Central Station,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bootsy Collins,
Bobby Sherman,
Magma,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Blues Magoos,
Liliput,
Cal Tjader,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.