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 Jamaica and from Seoul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gil Scott Heron to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
The Flesh Eaters,
Public Enemy,
Tres Demented,
Animal Collective,
Nick Fraelich,
The Walker Brothers,
Stockholm Monsters,
Audionom,
Ultra Naté,
The Evens,
Crispy Ambulance,
Hoover,
Crime,
Brothers Johnson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scott Walker,
Pole,
Jandek,
The Vogues,
Pierre Henry,
The Real Kids,
Gil Scott Heron,
Can,
Janne Schatter,
The Gories,
Organ,
Tears for Fears,
The Techniques,
The Star Department,
E-Dancer,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bobby Byrd,
Iggy Pop,
D'Angelo,
Shuggie Otis,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ten City,
Radio Birdman,
Cybotron,
Television Personalities,
Funkadelic,
The Index,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Procol Harum,
Nils Olav,
Hot Snakes,
Icehouse,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Gladiators,
Yaz,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Todd Rundgren,
Lalann,
The Martian,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pantytec,
Yusef Lateef,
Wings,
In Retrospect,
The Electric Prunes,
Cheater Slicks,
The United States of America,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.