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 Zimbabwe and from Halifax.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the organ 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 Lee Hazlewood to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Sister Nancy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
A Certain Ratio,
The Motions,
Marmalade,
Porter Ricks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Darondo,
Crispian St. Peters,
UT,
Outsiders,
E-Dancer,
Pussy Galore,
Fat Boys,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Pretty Things,
Los Fastidios,
Eve St. Jones,
Shuggie Otis,
the Sonics,
Man Parrish,
Isaac Hayes,
Nick Fraelich,
Minny Pops,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Monolake,
Magazine,
China Crisis,
Scott Walker,
Maurizio,
The Golliwogs,
Zapp,
Steve Hackett,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Suicide,
Brothers Johnson,
Mission of Burma,
Altered Images,
Mark Hollis,
Scion,
Nirvana,
Agent Orange,
Donny Hathaway,
Supertramp,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Liliput,
The Young Rascals,
48th St. Collective,
Ohio Players,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Goldenarms,
Howard Jones,
Moss Icon,
Robert Wyatt,
Con Funk Shun,
Susan Cadogan,
The Flesh Eaters,
Wally Richardson,
The Divine Comedy,
Lindisfarne,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.