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 Equatorial Guinea and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 theremin 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 the Normal to the rap 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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Black Flag,
Kaleidoscope,
Harry Pussy,
Alphaville,
The Slits,
Accadde A,
Amazonics,
The Black Dice,
One Last Wish,
Zero Boys,
Japan,
U.S. Maple,
Cameo,
Hashim,
Bob Dylan,
Jacob Miller,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Fania All-Stars,
Johnny Clarke,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kurtis Blow,
Scrapy,
Lindisfarne,
The J.B.'s,
Visage,
Heaven 17,
Mars,
Panda Bear,
Jacques Brel,
Swans,
Anakelly,
CMW,
Lou Christie,
The Real Kids,
Aloha Tigers,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Kenny Larkin,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Robert Hood,
Jeff Lynne,
The Fire Engines,
The Fugs,
Lightning Bolt,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Subhumans,
Fad Gadget,
Cybotron,
The Misunderstood,
Blossom Toes,
Hasil Adkins,
The Wake,
The New Christs,
Prince Buster,
Oneida,
Blancmange,
Boz Scaggs,
Todd Rundgren,
Section 25,
Pylon,
kango's stein massive,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.