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 Maldives and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Half Japanese to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
World's Most,
June of 44,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
These Immortal Souls,
The Evens,
Eddi Front,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Barracudas,
The Beau Brummels,
Idris Muhammad,
The Gun Club,
Black Moon,
Fugazi,
The Music Machine,
Laurel Aitken,
Ultravox,
Blake Baxter,
The Names,
Thee Headcoats,
Skarface,
Goldenarms,
Amon Düül II,
Sex Pistols,
OOIOO,
Bootsy Collins,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Modern Lovers,
Hoover,
Minor Threat,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Faust,
Ronnie Foster,
Prince Buster,
Peter & Gordon,
Second Layer,
Rakim,
Barclay James Harvest,
Amazonics,
Matthew Halsall,
The Real Kids,
ABBA,
D'Angelo,
One Last Wish,
Fela Kuti,
Organ,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Suburban Knight,
Be Bop Deluxe,
John Foxx,
Fear,
Funky Four + One,
Yazoo,
Soul Sonic Force,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Curtis Mayfield,
Surgeon,
Deepchord,
Bobby Byrd,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.