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 Belgium and from Manila.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 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 Thee Headcoats to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 A Certain Ratio. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Neon Judgement,
Blancmange,
Jeff Lynne,
The Divine Comedy,
Interpol,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Masters at Work,
The Music Machine,
Charles Mingus,
T. Rex,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pagans,
Au Pairs,
Quando Quango,
The J.B.'s,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Loose Ends,
Fluxion,
DNA,
the Slits,
LL Cool J,
Sun Ra,
The Martian,
Funkadelic,
Don Cherry,
Cybotron,
La Düsseldorf,
Connie Case,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Monks,
The Velvet Underground,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Visage,
Man Parrish,
The Star Department,
Excepter,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bootsy Collins,
Soulsonic Force,
Blake Baxter,
Technova,
Amon Düül II,
Lakeside,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bob Dylan,
Gong,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Moleskins,
Banda Bassotti,
Jeru the Damaja,
Tomorrow,
A Certain Ratio,
Massinfluence,
ABC,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.