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 Guyana and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the rap 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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Suicide,
Barclay James Harvest,
Goldenarms,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Excepter,
Sugar Minott,
Andrew Hill,
The Dave Clark Five,
Niagra,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Monks,
Livin' Joy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Banda Bassotti,
One Last Wish,
John Foxx,
The Selecter,
Man Parrish,
Skarface,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Be Bop Deluxe,
MC5,
Davy DMX,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bush Tetras,
Pylon,
Al Stewart,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Johnny Clarke,
Trumans Water,
Robert Hood,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jeff Mills,
The Offenders,
Siglo XX,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Brass Construction,
Intrusion,
Kenny Larkin,
Pantytec,
The Shadows of Knight,
Magma,
Nils Olav,
Anthony Braxton,
Whodini,
Panda Bear,
Scratch Acid,
Crime,
Gabor Szabo,
Rakim,
The Gories,
Albert Ayler,
Radio Birdman,
Rosa Yemen,
Henry Cow,
The Doobie Brothers,
Kerri Chandler,
Negative Approach,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.