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 Jamaica and from Mexico City.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 mellotron 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 Harpers Bizarre to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Hill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Magazine,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Five Americans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Magma,
Technova,
Joey Negro,
Gang Green,
Susan Cadogan,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bill Wells,
Echospace,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Minutemen,
Crash Course in Science,
Television,
Byron Stingily,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Aural Exciters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sam Rivers,
Bush Tetras,
Gerry Rafferty,
Groovy Waters,
Nirvana,
Boz Scaggs,
Tears for Fears,
the Bar-Kays,
The Cowsills,
Mary Jane Girls,
Simply Red,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Soul II Soul,
The American Breed,
Johnny Osbourne,
Q65,
X-101,
Visage,
Barbara Tucker,
Masters at Work,
Eve St. Jones,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Colin Newman,
the Germs,
The Motions,
Harry Pussy,
The Move,
Subhumans,
Fad Gadget,
Ohio Players,
the Swans,
Ice-T,
Excepter,
Funkadelic,
The Moleskins,
The Barracudas,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.