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 Syria and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Grey Daturas to the grunge 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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Moby Grape tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
Maleditus Sound,
Bronski Beat,
Electric Prunes,
Heaven 17,
Don Cherry,
8 Eyed Spy,
Boz Scaggs,
Glenn Branca,
Henry Cow,
DJ Sneak,
The Grass Roots,
Bobby Sherman,
Harry Pussy,
Model 500,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Arthur Verocai,
Bizarre Inc.,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rites of Spring,
The Young Rascals,
Bad Manners,
The Birthday Party,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Wasted Youth,
Dawn Penn,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Busters,
Erykah Badu,
Erasure,
Minutemen,
Scott Walker,
Amazonics,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Easy Going,
Soulsonic Force,
Ludus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
June Days,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Clear Light,
Crime,
Blake Baxter,
Drexciya,
Can,
Franke,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jesper Dahlback,
Graham Central Station,
X-101,
Tropical Tobacco,
Yazoo,
The Dead C,
Tubeway Army,
Byron Stingily,
Dead Boys,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lyres,
Avey Tare,
Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry.
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.