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 Tunisia and from Delhi.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the rap 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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Babytalk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
The Zeros,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Fania All-Stars,
Patti Smith,
Sun Ra,
Davy DMX,
The Mojo Men,
Marc Almond,
John Holt,
The Fire Engines,
Anthony Braxton,
Drexciya,
Monolake,
Can,
Clear Light,
Malaria!,
Soul II Soul,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Names,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Harmonia,
The Tremeloes,
Charles Mingus,
Fluxion,
Con Funk Shun,
Das Ding,
The Grass Roots,
Interpol,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Cybotron,
Chrome,
Skriet,
The Standells,
the Association,
Angry Samoans,
X-101,
The Blackbyrds,
ABBA,
Pantaleimon,
One Last Wish,
Max Romeo,
Radio Birdman,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Man Eating Sloth,
Magma,
The Wake,
Quando Quango,
Rapeman,
Donald Byrd,
PIL,
Lee Hazlewood,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mary Jane Girls,
Desert Stars,
Crime,
The Angels of Light,
Livin' Joy,
Eric Copeland,
Jacques Brel,
Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear.
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.