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 Micronesia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All The Moody Blues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Ten City,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Soulsonic Force,
Aswad,
Dark Day,
The Move,
X-101,
F. McDonald,
Massinfluence,
Mantronix,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Moody Blues,
H. Thieme,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Human League,
Barbara Tucker,
Glambeats Corp.,
Cameo,
Michelle Simonal,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Blake Baxter,
Newcleus,
The Cramps,
The Moleskins,
Fear,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Sonics,
Man Parrish,
The Red Krayola,
Stetsasonic,
Deakin,
The Gun Club,
Moss Icon,
Nas,
Judy Mowatt,
Patti Smith,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lou Christie,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Au Pairs,
Los Fastidios,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Slave,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Nik Kershaw,
Crooked Eye,
Joe Finger,
48th St. Collective,
Ice-T,
Desert Stars,
Marc Almond,
Gregory Isaacs,
Talk Talk,
Suicide,
Lightning Bolt,
The Fall,
Gerry Rafferty,
Idris Muhammad,
Isaac Hayes,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.