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 Bangladesh and from Taipei.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Funky Four + One to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bill Near. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Drive Like Jehu,
Freddie Wadling,
The Angels of Light,
MDC,
The Evens,
The New Christs,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Red Krayola,
Archie Shepp,
Second Layer,
Sister Nancy,
Pierre Henry,
PIL,
Faraquet,
Camouflage,
Colin Newman,
The Seeds,
Niagra,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The United States of America,
CMW,
Angry Samoans,
The Motions,
The Victims,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tommy Roe,
Kerri Chandler,
Davy DMX,
Arthur Verocai,
Joe Smooth,
Sällskapet,
Gabor Szabo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Amon Düül II,
June of 44,
Siglo XX,
DNA,
Avey Tare,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Wings,
Black Pus,
Can,
Underground Resistance,
Ornette Coleman,
Skaos,
Tim Buckley,
The Leaves,
Dark Day,
Eurythmics,
Fatback Band,
Vladislav Delay,
Subhumans,
Ultra Naté,
Accadde A,
Man Parrish,
Michelle Simonal,
Urselle,
Letta Mbulu,
The Names,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.