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 Slovakia and from Glasgow.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Victims to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Kurtis Blow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Fania All-Stars,
Flipper,
Gang Green,
ABBA,
Monolake,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Nils Olav,
Terry Callier,
E-Dancer,
One Last Wish,
The Moleskins,
Liliput,
The Moody Blues,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bauhaus,
Los Fastidios,
Mr. Review,
Tim Buckley,
Young Marble Giants,
Bluetip,
Y Pants,
Ohio Players,
Cymande,
Freddie Wadling,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ludus,
Absolute Body Control,
Anthony Braxton,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pharoah Sanders,
Wasted Youth,
Camberwell Now,
Radio Birdman,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Wake,
Yellowson,
Pantaleimon,
Japan,
The Divine Comedy,
Judy Mowatt,
Fluxion,
Bob Dylan,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Crash Course in Science,
Qualms,
Howard Jones,
Q65,
Minny Pops,
Lightning Bolt,
The Human League,
Joy Division,
H. Thieme,
U.S. Maple,
Pierre Henry,
Delon & Dalcan,
Maurizio,
Simply Red,
Gabor Szabo,
The Dead C,
Barclay James Harvest,
Tomorrow,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.