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 Niger and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the oboe 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 Rosa Yemen to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
The Blues Magoos,
Blancmange,
Stereo Dub,
Alice Coltrane,
JFA,
Gabor Szabo,
Hashim,
Magazine,
New Age Steppers,
Max Romeo,
The Dead C,
Drexciya,
Hardrive,
Radiohead,
Sex Pistols,
The Slits,
Marc Almond,
H. Thieme,
The Martian,
Ornette Coleman,
The Dave Clark Five,
Monks,
Matthew Halsall,
Mark Hollis,
Unwound,
Drive Like Jehu,
Mr. Review,
UT,
the Association,
Carl Craig,
Jeff Mills,
K-Klass,
Yaz,
The Cowsills,
Mantronix,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jerry Gold Smith,
John Coltrane,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Toasters,
Alton Ellis,
Bob Dylan,
Mars,
Negative Approach,
The Durutti Column,
cv313,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Terrestrial Tones,
Saccharine Trust,
T.S.O.L.,
Loose Ends,
Roy Ayers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Dual Sessions,
Skriet,
Lou Reed,
Pulsallama,
Half Japanese,
Infiniti,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.