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 Namibia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Pierre Henry to the dance 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 The Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hardrive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ornette Coleman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Dawn Penn,
The Associates,
The Doobie Brothers,
Thee Headcoats,
The Sound,
The Young Rascals,
Neu!,
Shoche,
Drexciya,
DNA,
Depeche Mode,
Janne Schatter,
Jandek,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bush Tetras,
Blossom Toes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Absolute Body Control,
John Lydon,
Peter & Gordon,
Dark Day,
Mr. Review,
The Cowsills,
Kaleidoscope,
Josef K,
The Skatalites,
Jacques Brel,
John Cale,
Swans,
E-Dancer,
Bad Manners,
Pantytec,
Grauzone,
Crooked Eye,
Blake Baxter,
Joyce Sims,
Lee Hazlewood,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Make Up,
The Cure,
Rakim,
Buzzcocks,
Judy Mowatt,
JFA,
Ronnie Foster,
Al Stewart,
Crime,
Scan 7,
The Five Americans,
Boz Scaggs,
Moebius,
Suicide,
Skaos,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Modern Lovers,
Panda Bear,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The New Christs,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.