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 Tajikistan and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Edmonton.
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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Moody Blues to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Youth Brigade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Roger Hodgson,
Nation of Ulysses,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
DJ Style,
Wolf Eyes,
The Fugs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Young Rascals,
Moby Grape,
Dennis Brown,
The Martian,
Porter Ricks,
Shoche,
Jimmy McGriff,
Soul Sonic Force,
OOIOO,
The Moody Blues,
Idris Muhammad,
Stockholm Monsters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The New Christs,
Bobby Sherman,
Dawn Penn,
The Gun Club,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Donald Byrd,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Judy Mowatt,
Desert Stars,
The Smoke,
Qualms,
Unwound,
Anakelly,
The Divine Comedy,
Eric Copeland,
Gerry Rafferty,
In Retrospect,
Boogie Down Productions,
Aswad,
Barbara Tucker,
The Cowsills,
Magma,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Graham Central Station,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Remains,
The Standells,
The Leaves,
Rekid,
Fad Gadget,
Grey Daturas,
The Slits,
Icehouse,
Kenny Larkin,
The Move,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fat Boys,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Joey Negro,
Procol Harum,
T.S.O.L.,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.