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 Mauritius and from Philadelphia.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Minny Pops to the rock 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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
The Black Dice,
Wings,
Zapp,
Al Stewart,
Fear,
Althea and Donna,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Iggy Pop,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The New Christs,
Kurtis Blow,
Roger Hodgson,
The Shadows of Knight,
Interpol,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Los Fastidios,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Stetsasonic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Beau Brummels,
Animal Collective,
K-Klass,
Graham Central Station,
Stockholm Monsters,
Eric Copeland,
Brick,
Derrick May,
Albert Ayler,
June Days,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Mummies,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Zero Boys,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Flash Fearless,
The Seeds,
Pagans,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Loose Ends,
Andrew Hill,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Cramps,
Radiohead,
The Grass Roots,
Smog,
Gong,
Wally Richardson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Agent Orange,
Sarah Menescal,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Tears for Fears,
Scion,
Rosa Yemen,
Rufus Thomas,
Sun Ra,
OOIOO,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.