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 El Salvador and from Copenhagen.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Cairo.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 Kerri Chandler to the jazz 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 Skarface. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerri Chandler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Amazonics,
The Doors,
T. Rex,
Severed Heads,
Deakin,
Magazine,
The United States of America,
T.S.O.L.,
Barbara Tucker,
The Sound,
Dead Boys,
Robert Wyatt,
Fat Boys,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Yazoo,
Jeff Mills,
a-ha,
Amon Düül,
This Heat,
The Blackbyrds,
Eden Ahbez,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Reagan Youth,
The Evens,
The Pretty Things,
Tropical Tobacco,
Suburban Knight,
Index,
Skriet,
Derrick Morgan,
the Association,
Funky Four + One,
Maurizio,
Jawbox,
The Seeds,
Be Bop Deluxe,
DJ Sneak,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Patti Smith,
Sugar Minott,
Malaria!,
Make Up,
Zero Boys,
Tres Demented,
The Slackers,
Fela Kuti,
Hasil Adkins,
Lou Christie,
The Trojans,
B.T. Express,
Ossler,
Cymande,
Moss Icon,
The Techniques,
Ludus,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.