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 Ukraine and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 organ 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 Patti Smith to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 the Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Tropical Tobacco,
New Age Steppers,
Hashim,
Jeff Lynne,
Steve Hackett,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
MDC,
Rites of Spring,
Pet Shop Boys,
Urselle,
Public Enemy,
The Evens,
Siglo XX,
Arab on Radar,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ultimate Spinach,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The United States of America,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
X-Ray Spex,
Rhythm & Sound,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Vainqueur,
the Association,
The Index,
Whodini,
UT,
The Motions,
Monks,
The Barracudas,
Sight & Sound,
Alton Ellis,
Cymande,
Bad Manners,
The Dead C,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gang Starr,
The Martian,
Lower 48,
Make Up,
Soft Cell,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Blues Magoos,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Faraquet,
Marine Girls,
Wally Richardson,
Quantec,
the Soft Cell,
Jacob Miller,
Sexual Harrassment,
David Axelrod,
Vladislav Delay,
Drive Like Jehu,
Stereo Dub,
Accadde A,
Radio Birdman,
Minnie Riperton,
Sun Ra,
The Blackbyrds,
Deadbeat,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.