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 Sweden and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the mellotron 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 T.S.O.L. to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Scan 7. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ralphi Rosario record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Velvet Underground,
Crime,
Rites of Spring,
Isaac Hayes,
Nick Fraelich,
The Detroit Cobras,
Minnie Riperton,
Ponytail,
The Busters,
Sun City Girls,
Negative Approach,
KRS-One,
Pantytec,
Gang Gang Dance,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mad Mike,
Blake Baxter,
Quadrant,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Dawn Penn,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lee Hazlewood,
James White and The Blacks,
Vainqueur,
Roxette,
Faust,
Dead Boys,
Rapeman,
Section 25,
The Angels of Light,
Spandau Ballet,
Ronnie Foster,
The Count Five,
The Martian,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gregory Isaacs,
Mark Hollis,
Japan,
A Certain Ratio,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Seeds,
Max Romeo,
Simply Red,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Barrington Levy,
June Days,
the Germs,
Marcia Griffiths,
Drive Like Jehu,
Steve Hackett,
The Vogues,
Mission of Burma,
Andrew Hill,
Youth Brigade,
Sexual Harrassment,
L. Decosne,
Joe Finger,
Skarface,
the Sonics,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.