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 Barbados and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Parry Music to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Motions. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a KRS-One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Crime,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pulsallama,
Jeru the Damaja,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ronnie Foster,
Minutemen,
Gabor Szabo,
Soul II Soul,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Byron Stingily,
The Mojo Men,
the Bar-Kays,
The Moleskins,
Lee Hazlewood,
Outsiders,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bootsy Collins,
Steve Hackett,
Ossler,
The Dead C,
the Association,
Nik Kershaw,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Index,
D'Angelo,
The Litter,
Average White Band,
Jacques Brel,
The Fire Engines,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Last Poets,
Crispian St. Peters,
Animal Collective,
Thee Headcoats,
the Soft Cell,
Thompson Twins,
Mantronix,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Fat Boys,
The Fall,
Fear,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nas,
Second Layer,
Suicide,
Symarip,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bill Near,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Tremeloes,
48th St. Collective,
The Raincoats,
The Knickerbockers,
Saccharine Trust,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Absolute Body Control,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Max Romeo,
U.S. Maple,
Ohio Players,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.