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 Uzbekistan and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Delon & Dalcan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-102 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aaron Thompson,
Ponytail,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Stereo Dub,
The Dead C,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rites of Spring,
Slick Rick,
Sandy B,
Ohio Players,
John Cale,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Underground Resistance,
Pussy Galore,
Nik Kershaw,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Soft Machine,
Das Ding,
ABBA,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Young Rascals,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The American Breed,
Iggy Pop,
Dawn Penn,
Mo-Dettes,
The Cure,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gerry Rafferty,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Suburban Knight,
Sexual Harrassment,
Graham Central Station,
David Axelrod,
The New Christs,
Danielle Patucci,
The Residents,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Amon Düül II,
Make Up,
New York Dolls,
The Barracudas,
Curtis Mayfield,
Delta 5,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Public Enemy,
Hoover,
Wings,
Can,
The Invisible,
Erykah Badu,
The Kinks,
Isaac Hayes,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Gong,
Dead Boys,
The Fall,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rod Modell,
Sly & The Family Stone,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.