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 Malaysia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the rock 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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Minny Pops tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Easy Going record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cameo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
David McCallum,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ice-T,
New York Dolls,
The Walker Brothers,
T. Rex,
Yaz,
Main Source,
Whodini,
Desert Stars,
The Residents,
Kerri Chandler,
Patti Smith,
John Lydon,
The Sonics,
Flash Fearless,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Electric Prunes,
Lightning Bolt,
E-Dancer,
The Gladiators,
Ponytail,
Sam Rivers,
the Normal,
Sex Pistols,
Supertramp,
New Age Steppers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Young Rascals,
Sun City Girls,
CMW,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Symarip,
Ultravox,
the Human League,
Swell Maps,
Dead Boys,
Minor Threat,
Mission of Burma,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Deepchord,
Jerry's Kids,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Icehouse,
The Gories,
Arcadia,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Rakim,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
MDC,
Radiohead,
The Golliwogs,
Infiniti,
Donald Byrd,
Althea and Donna,
Mars,
Roy Ayers,
Brothers Johnson,
H. Thieme,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.