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 Armenia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 oboe 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 Robert Hood to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
The Real Kids,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Q and Not U,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Desert Stars,
John Coltrane,
John Foxx,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Harry Pussy,
Jerry's Kids,
Black Flag,
Anthony Braxton,
Wolf Eyes,
The Sonics,
Tom Boy,
Ronnie Foster,
Aural Exciters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Wake,
Con Funk Shun,
Lucky Dragons,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
John Cale,
The Monochrome Set,
Jeru the Damaja,
Letta Mbulu,
Alice Coltrane,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bobby Sherman,
The Gap Band,
Mantronix,
Avey Tare,
The Blues Magoos,
T.S.O.L.,
The Move,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Alton Ellis,
Talk Talk,
Aaron Thompson,
Eden Ahbez,
Freddie Wadling,
Porter Ricks,
Skarface,
The Names,
Outsiders,
Fluxion,
Laurel Aitken,
Minutemen,
The Smoke,
Soul Sonic Force,
Silicon Teens,
Altered Images,
Q65,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Buckinghams,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.