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 Congo and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Moleskins 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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magazine,
Sällskapet,
Gabor Szabo,
The Velvet Underground,
Make Up,
The Victims,
Marshall Jefferson,
Main Source,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Barrington Levy,
The Standells,
Sex Pistols,
Model 500,
Reagan Youth,
The Blues Magoos,
Rakim,
Tres Demented,
UT,
Letta Mbulu,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ituana,
The Walker Brothers,
Terry Callier,
Babytalk,
Harmonia,
Mars,
Scott Walker,
Lyres,
B.T. Express,
Niagra,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kerrie Biddell,
Laurel Aitken,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Blancmange,
Bill Wells,
Black Pus,
The Blackbyrds,
Lower 48,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
MC5,
Supertramp,
Interpol,
Eden Ahbez,
June Days,
Swell Maps,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Electric Prunes,
Ossler,
Jawbox,
The Fire Engines,
Juan Atkins,
Sun City Girls,
The Birthday Party,
Sparks,
In Retrospect,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bluetip,
Robert Wyatt,
The Dirtbombs,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.