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 Tunisia and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 snare 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 Barrington Levy to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aaron Thompson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
Alison Limerick,
Toni Rubio,
D'Angelo,
Terry Callier,
Amon Düül II,
The Pretty Things,
Stiv Bators,
T. Rex,
Grey Daturas,
Zapp,
Minnie Riperton,
Nirvana,
Yaz,
The Monochrome Set,
This Heat,
Monks,
Anakelly,
DJ Style,
Lee Hazlewood,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Absolute Body Control,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Crispian St. Peters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
PIL,
Mad Mike,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Hot Snakes,
Magma,
The American Breed,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Cowsills,
the Normal,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
KRS-One,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Happenings,
David McCallum,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ituana,
Y Pants,
UT,
a-ha,
Echospace,
Don Cherry,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Suburban Knight,
Banda Bassotti,
The Knickerbockers,
Brothers Johnson,
Fat Boys,
Bauhaus,
Spoonie Gee,
Kayak,
Joe Finger,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Stooges,
Marmalade,
Model 500, Model 500, Model 500, Model 500.
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.