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 Djibouti and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 chamberlin 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 Mummies to the dance 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 Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Busters,
Hot Snakes,
Lyres,
Agent Orange,
Kurtis Blow,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Martian,
Magma,
Nick Fraelich,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Q and Not U,
Lalann,
Jawbox,
Alphaville,
Echospace,
The Misunderstood,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Doors,
Warsaw,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Minutemen,
Pantytec,
Lucky Dragons,
Das Ding,
Erykah Badu,
Mark Hollis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Brand Nubian,
Reuben Wilson,
T. Rex,
Idris Muhammad,
Mad Mike,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Little Man,
Kas Product,
Eden Ahbez,
Anthony Braxton,
Gang of Four,
Joe Finger,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Slackers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Move,
UT,
Fugazi,
Model 500,
Glenn Branca,
Outsiders,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Franke,
Skarface,
Infiniti,
Desert Stars,
Bluetip,
Arab on Radar,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Leaves,
The Black Dice,
F. McDonald,
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.