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 Senegal and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Mo-Dettes to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultramagnetic MC's record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Fat Boys,
Wasted Youth,
Suburban Knight,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Derrick Morgan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
ABC,
Moby Grape,
Mary Jane Girls,
Y Pants,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Crooked Eye,
Minnie Riperton,
cv313,
Cameo,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Residents,
Young Marble Giants,
Soul II Soul,
Reuben Wilson,
Crash Course in Science,
Kas Product,
The Searchers,
E-Dancer,
Second Layer,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Schoolly D,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
In Retrospect,
Tim Buckley,
The Vogues,
Icehouse,
MC5,
Pantaleimon,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Gap Band,
Max Romeo,
Mission of Burma,
B.T. Express,
Magazine,
The Litter,
Ornette Coleman,
The Kinks,
Marmalade,
Johnny Osbourne,
Boredoms,
Iggy Pop,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lebanon Hanover,
John Foxx,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jesper Dahlback,
Marvin Gaye,
the Sonics,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Golliwogs,
the Association,
Nico,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Barracudas,
Carl Craig,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.