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 Somalia and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Cheater Slicks to the techno 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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liaisons Dangereuses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ronnie Foster,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Skarface,
Wasted Youth,
Leonard Cohen,
Radiopuhelimet,
Country Teasers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Soulsonic Force,
X-101,
Eddi Front,
Parry Music,
These Immortal Souls,
Hardrive,
One Last Wish,
Guru Guru,
The Birthday Party,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Pere Ubu,
The Vogues,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dawn Penn,
Adolescents,
Au Pairs,
Kayak,
The Blackbyrds,
Royal Trux,
Wings,
Brand Nubian,
Popol Vuh,
Malaria!,
Organ,
D'Angelo,
Joe Smooth,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sonic Youth,
The Music Machine,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Germs,
Model 500,
ABC,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Faraquet,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Idris Muhammad,
Simply Red,
Sexual Harrassment,
Inner City,
Terry Callier,
the Slits,
Sun Ra,
Minutemen,
Basic Channel,
Fluxion,
The J.B.'s,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.