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 Lesotho and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bobby Byrd to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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?
Glambeats Corp.,
Hot Snakes,
Kas Product,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
the Association,
Radiopuhelimet,
UT,
The American Breed,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Al Stewart,
Surgeon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Warsaw,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Godley & Creme,
Spandau Ballet,
Sixth Finger,
8 Eyed Spy,
Y Pants,
The Blues Magoos,
Bill Wells,
The Detroit Cobras,
In Retrospect,
Shoche,
Barrington Levy,
The Fuzztones,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cecil Taylor,
OOIOO,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rosa Yemen,
The Doobie Brothers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Black Sheep,
Desert Stars,
Mo-Dettes,
Whodini,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cybotron,
Pagans,
X-101,
Isaac Hayes,
Susan Cadogan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Faust,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cameo,
Ten City,
Lee Hazlewood,
Yazoo,
Zero Boys,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Misunderstood,
Ponytail,
ABBA,
The Star Department,
Lakeside,
Los Fastidios,
Flipper,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Howard Jones,
FM Einheit,
Tubeway Army,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.