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 Brazil and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Amazonics to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Japan,
The Names,
The Dirtbombs,
Jacques Brel,
Popol Vuh,
The Fortunes,
Donny Hathaway,
K-Klass,
Camberwell Now,
Roy Ayers,
The Gun Club,
Wire,
Tropical Tobacco,
Schoolly D,
The Smoke,
Kas Product,
John Foxx,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ice-T,
Pet Shop Boys,
B.T. Express,
Pierre Henry,
Easy Going,
PIL,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Fatback Band,
Marvin Gaye,
Gastr Del Sol,
Moby Grape,
Scion,
Soft Cell,
Arab on Radar,
Television,
Los Fastidios,
FM Einheit,
The Sonics,
Surgeon,
Scott Walker,
F. McDonald,
Mandrill,
Thee Headcoats,
Scrapy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Stiv Bators,
Soft Machine,
Suicide,
Babytalk,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ituana,
Joey Negro,
China Crisis,
The New Christs,
Lyres,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Robert Görl,
Desert Stars,
Piero Umiliani,
Curtis Mayfield,
Yaz,
Matthew Halsall,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.