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 China and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the rock 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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Quando Quango tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Fania All-Stars,
Zapp,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Animal Collective,
Smog,
Circle Jerks,
China Crisis,
Royal Trux,
The Angels of Light,
Surgeon,
48th St. Collective,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Moby Grape,
Anakelly,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jeff Lynne,
Laurel Aitken,
Alton Ellis,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tubeway Army,
Rakim,
Second Layer,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Barbara Tucker,
Magazine,
The Black Dice,
The Martian,
Index,
Section 25,
Unrelated Segments,
The Fugs,
Kenny Larkin,
Franke,
John Foxx,
Ponytail,
Can,
Rosa Yemen,
Throbbing Gristle,
Agitation Free,
DJ Style,
Minor Threat,
The Fall,
X-101,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Underground Resistance,
This Heat,
Pole,
Ludus,
John Holt,
Jeff Mills,
Motorama,
Echospace,
Flipper,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Blues Magoos,
Rotary Connection,
Piero Umiliani,
D'Angelo,
Skaos,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.