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 Jamaica and from Lille.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 sitar 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 The Music Machine to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boz Scaggs,
The Walker Brothers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Piero Umiliani,
Niagra,
Rotary Connection,
Das Ding,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scion,
Jandek,
Terrestrial Tones,
Silicon Teens,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Cameo,
Radiohead,
The Move,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Outsiders,
Pierre Henry,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sam Rivers,
Ludus,
Unrelated Segments,
Shuggie Otis,
Bush Tetras,
Matthew Bourne,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lucky Dragons,
The Sound,
Average White Band,
Johnny Clarke,
Hot Snakes,
The Associates,
The Fire Engines,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Eden Ahbez,
Rapeman,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pet Shop Boys,
Duran Duran,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Fat Boys,
Todd Terry,
The Fortunes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Crime,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Smiths,
Faraquet,
The Grass Roots,
Fad Gadget,
Soulsonic Force,
Siglo XX,
Pulsallama,
Michelle Simonal,
U.S. Maple,
The Real Kids,
Alice Coltrane,
Traffic Nightmare,
Barry Ungar,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.