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 Montenegro and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Salvador.
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 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 Holger Czukay 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 Black Pus to the punk 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Zeros record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Camberwell Now,
Suburban Knight,
Danielle Patucci,
the Swans,
Barrington Levy,
Con Funk Shun,
Ohio Players,
T.S.O.L.,
The Misunderstood,
Blossom Toes,
Flash Fearless,
Accadde A,
The Walker Brothers,
Von Mondo,
X-101,
Eric Copeland,
Arcadia,
Babytalk,
The Cowsills,
The Star Department,
Television,
Ultravox,
Talk Talk,
Minutemen,
Section 25,
Pulsallama,
The Victims,
Alphaville,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Skarface,
Bang On A Can,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Durutti Column,
Roxy Music,
Roxette,
The Seeds,
Ten City,
Yaz,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Roy Ayers,
Black Moon,
Terry Callier,
The Slits,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Mandrill,
Idris Muhammad,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bad Manners,
Absolute Body Control,
Grey Daturas,
Hashim,
Gang of Four,
Sam Rivers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Metal Thangz,
Alison Limerick,
Livin' Joy,
DJ Style,
Throbbing Gristle,
Aloha Tigers,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.