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 Korea North and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 LL Cool J to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Yusef Lateef,
The Divine Comedy,
Babytalk,
Los Fastidios,
Gastr Del Sol,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mr. Review,
Brothers Johnson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Joe Smooth,
Faraquet,
Oneida,
KRS-One,
Soft Machine,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Stooges,
Wings,
Flipper,
Rapeman,
Connie Case,
CMW,
June Days,
Joyce Sims,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wally Richardson,
John Holt,
Television Personalities,
Stiv Bators,
David Bowie,
Mandrill,
Slick Rick,
Heaven 17,
the Slits,
Tropical Tobacco,
Television,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lucky Dragons,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tears for Fears,
Groovy Waters,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ossler,
Technova,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Deadbeat,
Roxette,
Fear,
Sexual Harrassment,
U.S. Maple,
DNA,
The Saints,
Interpol,
Rites of Spring,
Marvin Gaye,
Procol Harum,
Peter and Kerry,
Jeff Lynne,
Fluxion,
H. Thieme,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.