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 Denmark and from Bremen.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Donald Fagen 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 Maurizio to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gary Puckett & The Union Gap 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Junior Murvin,
Kaleidoscope,
Sound Behaviour,
Sällskapet,
The Black Dice,
Shoche,
Bill Wells,
Darondo,
Delta 5,
the Soft Cell,
The New Christs,
Ponytail,
Black Bananas,
The Pop Group,
Wings,
The Offenders,
Accadde A,
Aloha Tigers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Minutemen,
Skaos,
Crime,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Excepter,
Sparks,
Ituana,
Glambeats Corp.,
Cameo,
Goldenarms,
Lungfish,
The Music Machine,
Easy Going,
Kevin Saunderson,
Donald Byrd,
Matthew Halsall,
Gang Green,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Fuzztones,
Reagan Youth,
Scrapy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Last Poets,
Nico,
The United States of America,
Franke,
Basic Channel,
The Divine Comedy,
The Five Americans,
Jacques Brel,
Jesper Dahlback,
Alice Coltrane,
the Association,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Audionom,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Searchers,
Pylon,
The Cure,
Throbbing Gristle,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.