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 Andorra and from Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 harpsichord 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 The Skatalites to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Cramps. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gregory Isaacs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Smog,
Minutemen,
Dead Boys,
Jacques Brel,
F. McDonald,
The Kinks,
Heaven 17,
Sandy B,
KRS-One,
Minnie Riperton,
Amazonics,
Bobby Womack,
The Slackers,
Tim Buckley,
Sexual Harrassment,
Grey Daturas,
Jerry's Kids,
Radio Birdman,
Lower 48,
World's Most,
The Durutti Column,
Gastr Del Sol,
Index,
Lucky Dragons,
The Raincoats,
Skarface,
Ludus,
Sun City Girls,
The Offenders,
Pussy Galore,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Easy Going,
The Associates,
The Grass Roots,
Dawn Penn,
X-102,
Marshall Jefferson,
Main Source,
Terry Callier,
Can,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Chris Corsano,
Sam Rivers,
Amon Düül II,
Lou Reed,
Pantytec,
Ronnie Foster,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
David Bowie,
Tom Boy,
Susan Cadogan,
Blossom Toes,
Davy DMX,
Bob Dylan,
Ten City,
Lalann,
Ice-T,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Harmonia,
Warren Ellis,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.