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 Argentina and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Yaz to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Sun City Girls,
Freddie Wadling,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tears for Fears,
Sight & Sound,
Talk Talk,
Simply Red,
The Velvet Underground,
Lungfish,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tropical Tobacco,
Don Cherry,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Peter & Gordon,
Patti Smith,
D'Angelo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Qualms,
Steve Hackett,
Minnie Riperton,
Avey Tare,
Skriet,
Delta 5,
The Music Machine,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pharoah Sanders,
Darondo,
The Victims,
Sandy B,
Khruangbin,
The Doors,
E-Dancer,
Eurythmics,
Television,
Eric B and Rakim,
Todd Terry,
Mars,
Todd Rundgren,
Reagan Youth,
Rod Modell,
Severed Heads,
Flash Fearless,
Marmalade,
Cheater Slicks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tom Boy,
Junior Murvin,
The Misunderstood,
Surgeon,
Negative Approach,
Lightning Bolt,
The American Breed,
Erasure,
Sixth Finger,
Q65,
Rotary Connection,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Chrome,
The Gladiators,
Oblivians,
Sister Nancy,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.