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 Australia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Minny Pops 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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip 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 snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brand Nubian,
PIL,
The Cure,
Zero Boys,
Oneida,
Lucky Dragons,
Cybotron,
Symarip,
Letta Mbulu,
10cc,
Pantytec,
The Fortunes,
Reagan Youth,
Davy DMX,
Popol Vuh,
The Searchers,
Gabor Szabo,
The Music Machine,
Hot Snakes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Hardrive,
The Doors,
Blancmange,
Con Funk Shun,
Eric Dolphy,
Mad Mike,
Ronnie Foster,
the Slits,
Wings,
Sun City Girls,
Unrelated Segments,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mission of Burma,
Tom Boy,
Donald Byrd,
The Toasters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sex Pistols,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Moody Blues,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Sonics,
Cal Tjader,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Flesh Eaters,
Saccharine Trust,
R.M.O.,
The Buckinghams,
Boogie Down Productions,
Buzzcocks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Aural Exciters,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Loose Ends,
Lalo Schifrin,
Hashim,
Sällskapet,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ultra Naté,
Interpol,
Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra.
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.