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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Lille.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Drexciya to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Black Flag. All the underground hits.
All Nas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Toasters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Half Japanese,
Moebius,
Pierre Henry,
The Slits,
Arthur Verocai,
The Cramps,
Gang Green,
Unwound,
Soulsonic Force,
Camouflage,
the Swans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Flipper,
Dark Day,
Ronan,
Gabor Szabo,
Franke,
Brick,
Hasil Adkins,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Harmonia,
H. Thieme,
The Barracudas,
Lungfish,
Sonny Sharrock,
Black Moon,
Sex Pistols,
Lou Reed,
Bad Manners,
Cybotron,
Accadde A,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tres Demented,
Avey Tare,
Wings,
The Doobie Brothers,
Porter Ricks,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Funky Four + One,
Ice-T,
Average White Band,
Bizarre Inc.,
Magma,
Boz Scaggs,
The Selecter,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nico,
Mr. Review,
Alice Coltrane,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Morten Harket,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eric Dolphy,
Pantaleimon,
Black Pus,
The Knickerbockers,
Pagans,
Anakelly,
Bush Tetras,
Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty.
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.