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 India and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Davy DMX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
Inner City,
Electric Prunes,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Black Flag,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Joy Division,
Camberwell Now,
Motorama,
Grauzone,
Amon Düül,
The Litter,
H. Thieme,
Harmonia,
Roger Hodgson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fluxion,
Mantronix,
Judy Mowatt,
The Move,
Pole,
Traffic Nightmare,
Alice Coltrane,
Faust,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Count Five,
Lower 48,
Black Sheep,
Crooked Eye,
Siglo XX,
Gang Starr,
Prince Buster,
Eve St. Jones,
Kerrie Biddell,
David Bowie,
Deakin,
The Associates,
B.T. Express,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Can,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Barry Ungar,
Radio Birdman,
The Stooges,
The Pop Group,
The Knickerbockers,
FM Einheit,
Duran Duran,
Brass Construction,
the Bar-Kays,
Shuggie Otis,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lalann,
Lindisfarne,
This Heat,
Albert Ayler,
The Sound,
Tropical Tobacco,
Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry.
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.