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 Denmark and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Goldenarms to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
Funkadelic,
Matthew Halsall,
The Blues Magoos,
Joey Negro,
The Knickerbockers,
Swans,
The Divine Comedy,
Negative Approach,
UT,
Zero Boys,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Archie Shepp,
Cheater Slicks,
Suburban Knight,
Desert Stars,
T. Rex,
Buzzcocks,
Marmalade,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fugazi,
Robert Görl,
Camouflage,
Soft Machine,
The Young Rascals,
Tom Boy,
Fluxion,
Urselle,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scan 7,
the Slits,
Jeff Mills,
The Modern Lovers,
Second Layer,
Jacques Brel,
Lyres,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Skriet,
Agent Orange,
F. McDonald,
Mad Mike,
AZ,
Prince Buster,
Warsaw,
Nick Fraelich,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sun Ra,
Radio Birdman,
Easy Going,
The Doors,
Eric Dolphy,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Last Poets,
Jesper Dahlback,
Deakin,
Wolf Eyes,
Black Bananas,
The Beau Brummels,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.