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 Turkmenistan and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 arpeggiator 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 Visage to the jazz 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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Cameo,
The Leaves,
The Grass Roots,
Throbbing Gristle,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Invisible,
The Gun Club,
Kaleidoscope,
Moebius,
The American Breed,
The Alarm Clocks,
World's Most,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Knickerbockers,
Davy DMX,
Whodini,
Mars,
X-101,
JFA,
Depeche Mode,
B.T. Express,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Kinks,
E-Dancer,
Steve Hackett,
Patti Smith,
Howard Jones,
Todd Terry,
the Association,
Marvin Gaye,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
kango's stein massive,
Lyres,
Sam Rivers,
Minny Pops,
Maleditus Sound,
This Heat,
Ronnie Foster,
Bobby Sherman,
Sällskapet,
The Standells,
Half Japanese,
Radiopuhelimet,
Fat Boys,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kurtis Blow,
Sarah Menescal,
Sex Pistols,
PIL,
Mad Mike,
Porter Ricks,
Mission of Burma,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ultravox,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Searchers,
Erykah Badu,
Surgeon,
Slick Rick,
Main Source,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.