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 Ecuador and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 arpeggiator 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 One Last Wish 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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
Jandek,
Prince Buster,
the Soft Cell,
Scott Walker,
Matthew Bourne,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gastr Del Sol,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
David McCallum,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Residents,
Funky Four + One,
Boz Scaggs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Fugs,
The Kinks,
Absolute Body Control,
Lyres,
Dark Day,
Crispy Ambulance,
Television,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
UT,
The Searchers,
Bill Near,
Underground Resistance,
Maleditus Sound,
Rhythm & Sound,
U.S. Maple,
Ponytail,
Bad Manners,
Ken Boothe,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Busters,
Second Layer,
Man Parrish,
The Cramps,
Can,
The Black Dice,
The Mummies,
Black Flag,
World's Most,
Curtis Mayfield,
Quando Quango,
Skarface,
Sun City Girls,
Eden Ahbez,
Simply Red,
The Standells,
Joey Negro,
Barry Ungar,
The Gap Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eve St. Jones,
Susan Cadogan,
The Tremeloes,
Harmonia,
Stockholm Monsters,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Niagra,
DJ Style,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.