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 Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 spring reverb 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 The Birthday Party to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 In Retrospect. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Idris Muhammad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
Fela Kuti,
Khruangbin,
Godley & Creme,
Bad Manners,
Alton Ellis,
La Düsseldorf,
Symarip,
Prince Buster,
Sugar Minott,
Laurel Aitken,
Donald Byrd,
The Victims,
Von Mondo,
Arcadia,
Kenny Larkin,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Schoolly D,
Vladislav Delay,
Pole,
E-Dancer,
The Buckinghams,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Searchers,
Man Parrish,
Soul II Soul,
Excepter,
Gang Starr,
The Smiths,
Piero Umiliani,
Tom Boy,
Jandek,
Moby Grape,
The Fire Engines,
Aaron Thompson,
Nik Kershaw,
Barclay James Harvest,
Public Enemy,
Ultimate Spinach,
Harmonia,
Charles Mingus,
DNA,
Yazoo,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jeff Mills,
Spandau Ballet,
Ohio Players,
Moebius,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Bar-Kays,
Bauhaus,
Ultra Naté,
the Germs,
Half Japanese,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Mummies,
Albert Ayler,
David Axelrod,
The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds.
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.