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 Madagascar and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Roxy Music to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Niagra,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Graham Central Station,
X-101,
The Birthday Party,
Andrew Hill,
Wolf Eyes,
Agent Orange,
Lee Hazlewood,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Durutti Column,
The Searchers,
World's Most,
Barbara Tucker,
Kaleidoscope,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Amon Düül,
David Axelrod,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Kinks,
Second Layer,
Marvin Gaye,
Flipper,
Newcleus,
The Blackbyrds,
Derrick Morgan,
Boogie Down Productions,
Albert Ayler,
Surgeon,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Wings,
Youth Brigade,
The Wake,
Loose Ends,
Boz Scaggs,
The Tremeloes,
Fela Kuti,
The Count Five,
Excepter,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Ronan,
Cabaret Voltaire,
DNA,
Fugazi,
Don Cherry,
Inner City,
Moebius,
Ice-T,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Buckinghams,
Judy Mowatt,
Minnie Riperton,
The Detroit Cobras,
Davy DMX,
AZ,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mantronix,
The Electric Prunes,
Ohio Players,
Scientists,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.