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 Netherlands and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the funk 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 The Busters. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Cure,
Josef K,
Junior Murvin,
Popol Vuh,
Rufus Thomas,
Surgeon,
Gichy Dan,
The Slits,
Mars,
Banda Bassotti,
Thee Headcoats,
Bad Manners,
Carl Craig,
Mo-Dettes,
Tres Demented,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Excepter,
The Angels of Light,
Ultra Naté,
The Vogues,
Aswad,
Silicon Teens,
Dorothy Ashby,
Soul Sonic Force,
Fatback Band,
China Crisis,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Nik Kershaw,
Amon Düül II,
Unrelated Segments,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Echospace,
Delon & Dalcan,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Khruangbin,
DJ Sneak,
Public Image Ltd.,
Joe Smooth,
Roger Hodgson,
Brand Nubian,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Blackbyrds,
R.M.O.,
The Searchers,
The Gories,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Swell Maps,
Erykah Badu,
Motorama,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Alice Coltrane,
Steve Hackett,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Depeche Mode,
Funky Four + One,
The Invisible,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.