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 France and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare 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 Ken Boothe to the funk 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Max Romeo,
The Real Kids,
Bob Dylan,
The J.B.'s,
The Music Machine,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Yusef Lateef,
The Star Department,
David McCallum,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Freddie Wadling,
Sandy B,
Niagra,
The Pop Group,
Aural Exciters,
The Blues Magoos,
The Moleskins,
Bizarre Inc.,
Spandau Ballet,
Lou Reed,
The Buckinghams,
kango's stein massive,
Agitation Free,
Curtis Mayfield,
Circle Jerks,
Desert Stars,
The United States of America,
Oblivians,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Derrick Morgan,
Amon Düül,
Quantec,
Magazine,
The Happenings,
Loose Ends,
Girls At Our Best!,
Terry Callier,
Sam Rivers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pantaleimon,
The Zeros,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Fania All-Stars,
Scientists,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Zapp,
B.T. Express,
Joensuu 1685,
Gong,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Little Man,
Whodini,
Deepchord,
the Slits,
Sly & The Family Stone,
F. McDonald,
Ice-T,
T.S.O.L.,
The Techniques,
Rapeman,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.