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 Poland and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Modern Lovers to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Inner City,
The Young Rascals,
Ralphi Rosario,
Charles Mingus,
One Last Wish,
The Monks,
Sandy B,
Fad Gadget,
The Beau Brummels,
Siglo XX,
The Kinks,
Heaven 17,
The Offenders,
The Velvet Underground,
Rod Modell,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sonny Sharrock,
Icehouse,
The Moody Blues,
The Grass Roots,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jerry's Kids,
Soft Machine,
Guru Guru,
Lou Reed,
Radio Birdman,
X-102,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Cramps,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
10cc,
The Slits,
Soul Sonic Force,
Animal Collective,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marshall Jefferson,
Symarip,
The Zeros,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pere Ubu,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Shadows of Knight,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Susan Cadogan,
The Black Dice,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Electric Prunes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Residents,
Rakim,
Juan Atkins,
Bauhaus,
Crispy Ambulance,
Barclay James Harvest,
Neu!,
Henry Cow,
Ornette Coleman,
T.S.O.L.,
Alphaville,
Nils Olav,
Ten City,
B.T. Express,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.