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 Bhutan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Hong Kong.
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 synthesizer 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the dance 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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
F. McDonald,
Faraquet,
Swell Maps,
Terry Callier,
Black Pus,
Lou Christie,
the Soft Cell,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Joy Division,
Fatback Band,
The Shadows of Knight,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Red Krayola,
Radiopuhelimet,
Black Moon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Aswad,
Gang Starr,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Oneida,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Young Rascals,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Iggy Pop,
One Last Wish,
Bill Wells,
Throbbing Gristle,
Nas,
Connie Case,
Tubeway Army,
Eve St. Jones,
The Martian,
Amazonics,
Japan,
Dead Boys,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Alarm Clocks,
Peter & Gordon,
Alison Limerick,
Mars,
Arthur Verocai,
The Seeds,
Davy DMX,
Mission of Burma,
The Standells,
Roxy Music,
The Slits,
The J.B.'s,
Funkadelic,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Angry Samoans,
Neil Young,
Silicon Teens,
Steve Hackett,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Germs,
the Bar-Kays,
Severed Heads,
Pussy Galore,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.