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 Eritrea and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mumbai.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Don Cherry to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Chocolate Watch Band. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & Metallica record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Young Rascals record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Scion,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Throbbing Gristle,
Harry Pussy,
Stetsasonic,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crispian St. Peters,
Amon Düül,
Drexciya,
Don Cherry,
Faust,
Robert Hood,
the Slits,
Mr. Review,
48th St. Collective,
Ponytail,
Nik Kershaw,
Fatback Band,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Albert Ayler,
CMW,
Erasure,
Curtis Mayfield,
A Certain Ratio,
Young Marble Giants,
The Red Krayola,
Moss Icon,
Peter and Kerry,
Quando Quango,
Isaac Hayes,
Porter Ricks,
Davy DMX,
Anakelly,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobby Sherman,
Soul II Soul,
K-Klass,
Cecil Taylor,
Fad Gadget,
Janne Schatter,
Ten City,
Q and Not U,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kurtis Blow,
Oneida,
Negative Approach,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Gun Club,
Stiv Bators,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bang On A Can,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Popol Vuh,
Alton Ellis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Interpol,
Thee Headcoats,
Angry Samoans,
Roxette,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu.
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.