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 St Lucia and from Woodstock.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Angry Samoans to the dance 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 Radiopuhelimet. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
H. Thieme,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Avey Tare,
Easy Going,
Supertramp,
Skriet,
Ponytail,
Gabor Szabo,
Jesper Dahlback,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
T. Rex,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ornette Coleman,
Agitation Free,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Smog,
Rakim,
Hot Snakes,
The Pretty Things,
Reagan Youth,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jawbox,
June Days,
Amazonics,
Q and Not U,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Godley & Creme,
the Slits,
Wings,
The Last Poets,
Drexciya,
The Cowsills,
Dorothy Ashby,
kango's stein massive,
The Leaves,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Flesh Eaters,
Maurizio,
Section 25,
Gang Starr,
The Cramps,
Ossler,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Piero Umiliani,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
New Order,
Eurythmics,
Jandek,
Eli Mardock,
Radiopuhelimet,
Wolf Eyes,
The Fire Engines,
Chris & Cosey,
Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy.
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.