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 Costa Rica and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 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 Sad Lovers and Giants 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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Evens,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Walker Brothers,
The Trojans,
Eddi Front,
Eric Copeland,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Black Bananas,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ponytail,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Sound,
Parry Music,
Warren Ellis,
Sun City Girls,
Amon Düül,
Skarface,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Crash Course in Science,
Ten City,
Barbara Tucker,
Crispian St. Peters,
Marshall Jefferson,
New Age Steppers,
Marine Girls,
Pet Shop Boys,
Liliput,
Cybotron,
Khruangbin,
In Retrospect,
Lalann,
Albert Ayler,
Ludus,
Surgeon,
These Immortal Souls,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sex Pistols,
Susan Cadogan,
Fad Gadget,
Laurel Aitken,
Gabor Szabo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Drexciya,
The Real Kids,
The Monks,
The Busters,
The Monochrome Set,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Slits,
Gong,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Eurythmics,
Harry Pussy,
Scrapy,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
DNA,
Ken Boothe,
Hot Snakes,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.