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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
John Holt,
Pere Ubu,
Ten City,
the Germs,
Crime,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Man Eating Sloth,
Erykah Badu,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Warsaw,
Ossler,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Invisible,
Suburban Knight,
The Motions,
The Doors,
La Düsseldorf,
Erasure,
Popol Vuh,
Bush Tetras,
The United States of America,
The Fire Engines,
The Moleskins,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jacob Miller,
The Residents,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Curtis Mayfield,
Joe Smooth,
Gang Starr,
Amon Düül,
Yusef Lateef,
Tears for Fears,
Porter Ricks,
Little Man,
The Dead C,
Qualms,
Rapeman,
Barbara Tucker,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Henry Cow,
Anakelly,
Banda Bassotti,
Average White Band,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Freddie Wadling,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bad Manners,
10cc,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Fat Boys,
Robert Görl,
Kas Product,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ponytail,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Y Pants,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.