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 Tuvalu and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Radio Birdman to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maurizio 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?
Kayak,
Yazoo,
Arthur Verocai,
Hoover,
Black Sheep,
The Selecter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rekid,
Lalann,
Prince Buster,
Chris & Cosey,
Sight & Sound,
Franke,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Skatalites,
Fad Gadget,
Reagan Youth,
Mandrill,
John Foxx,
Beasts of Bourbon,
MC5,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Human League,
Cluster,
Barbara Tucker,
Tomorrow,
New York Dolls,
This Heat,
The Standells,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sonic Youth,
Rufus Thomas,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Agent Orange,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Roxette,
Minnie Riperton,
Stiv Bators,
Von Mondo,
The Vogues,
Tom Boy,
Morten Harket,
Amon Düül,
Barrington Levy,
The Walker Brothers,
The Gladiators,
Electric Prunes,
Fatback Band,
Juan Atkins,
Robert Wyatt,
Roy Ayers,
cv313,
Au Pairs,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sonny Sharrock,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Searchers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Suicide,
The Young Rascals,
Symarip,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.