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 Liechtenstein 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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Terry Callier to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
New York Dolls,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Brick,
These Immortal Souls,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bill Wells,
Alice Coltrane,
Neu!,
Shuggie Otis,
Cymande,
Country Teasers,
Warsaw,
Agitation Free,
the Normal,
The Techniques,
Bootsy Collins,
Letta Mbulu,
Roxette,
Rufus Thomas,
Cluster,
The Misunderstood,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Real Kids,
B.T. Express,
The Selecter,
Altered Images,
Soft Machine,
Deadbeat,
Robert Hood,
Little Man,
Reagan Youth,
David McCallum,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Skarface,
OOIOO,
Eden Ahbez,
Talk Talk,
Max Romeo,
Radio Birdman,
Panda Bear,
Duran Duran,
Crime,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marcia Griffiths,
DNA,
Jeff Mills,
Gichy Dan,
Howard Jones,
X-102,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Pretty Things,
Cheater Slicks,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Moss Icon,
Mars,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Robert Görl,
X-101,
Byron Stingily,
Godley & Creme,
Sam Rivers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.