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 Georgia and from Woodstock.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the jazz 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield 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 marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Talk Talk,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mars,
Half Japanese,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Skatalites,
Jerry's Kids,
Sun Ra,
The Cramps,
Whodini,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Motorama,
Pagans,
Symarip,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Smoke,
Barbara Tucker,
Fad Gadget,
Black Flag,
Hot Snakes,
Bronski Beat,
Scion,
48th St. Collective,
Popol Vuh,
The Offenders,
Drexciya,
Reagan Youth,
Crooked Eye,
Aural Exciters,
Cymande,
Sex Pistols,
Q and Not U,
Echospace,
Todd Rundgren,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Supertramp,
Bobby Womack,
Das Ding,
Crime,
Bootsy Collins,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tom Boy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lakeside,
B.T. Express,
Niagra,
Byron Stingily,
Pere Ubu,
The Real Kids,
Blossom Toes,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
New York Dolls,
Quantec,
Stockholm Monsters,
John Coltrane,
R.M.O.,
The Detroit Cobras,
Wasted Youth,
Kas Product,
John Cale,
Fear,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.