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 Bahrain and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Quando Quango to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sound Behaviour. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
Royal Trux,
The Gories,
Amon Düül II,
OOIOO,
Interpol,
Cecil Taylor,
Tubeway Army,
Byron Stingily,
The New Christs,
D'Angelo,
Leonard Cohen,
Nik Kershaw,
The Red Krayola,
The Detroit Cobras,
Radio Birdman,
The Buckinghams,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Desert Stars,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Magma,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Matthew Halsall,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jesper Dahlback,
Big Daddy Kane,
Icehouse,
The Saints,
Talk Talk,
the Slits,
Echospace,
Mission of Burma,
Minnie Riperton,
The Five Americans,
Whodini,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kayak,
Slick Rick,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Duran Duran,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Anakelly,
Kurtis Blow,
Ice-T,
Eric Copeland,
Camberwell Now,
Bob Dylan,
Tommy Roe,
the Germs,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Little Man,
Alphaville,
James White and The Blacks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ronnie Foster,
Pere Ubu,
Kerri Chandler,
Babytalk,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.