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 Paraguay and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Edmonton.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Saints to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Radio Birdman,
Robert Hood,
Radiopuhelimet,
UT,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dark Day,
Fort Wilson Riot,
OOIOO,
Roxette,
Man Parrish,
Freddie Wadling,
Scrapy,
The Human League,
The Beau Brummels,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Fatback Band,
John Lydon,
Harmonia,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Pretty Things,
Thee Headcoats,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Alison Limerick,
The Slits,
The Angels of Light,
Soul II Soul,
Gil Scott Heron,
Albert Ayler,
The Litter,
Metal Thangz,
Lebanon Hanover,
Essential Logic,
Derrick May,
Saccharine Trust,
Todd Terry,
Bang On A Can,
John Coltrane,
Desert Stars,
Jacques Brel,
Anthony Braxton,
Fifty Foot Hose,
R.M.O.,
Joe Finger,
Buzzcocks,
Marcia Griffiths,
Supertramp,
The Dave Clark Five,
Yusef Lateef,
Funkadelic,
The Happenings,
Swell Maps,
Kayak,
Barclay James Harvest,
Amazonics,
James White and The Blacks,
Bill Near,
Curtis Mayfield,
Theoretical Girls,
Vladislav Delay,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Shadows of Knight,
Arcadia,
Hot Snakes,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
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.