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 Ivory Coast and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Khruangbin to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neu!,
Sex Pistols,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
H. Thieme,
Funkadelic,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cameo,
Marc Almond,
Piero Umiliani,
Scientists,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Smog,
The Busters,
Severed Heads,
Tres Demented,
Wolf Eyes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Surgeon,
New York Dolls,
Flash Fearless,
A Certain Ratio,
Jacob Miller,
the Human League,
Grey Daturas,
Frankie Knuckles,
The New Christs,
F. McDonald,
The Standells,
Maleditus Sound,
Jimmy McGriff,
Max Romeo,
Todd Terry,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kas Product,
Agent Orange,
Icehouse,
The Seeds,
The Gladiators,
Scan 7,
The Red Krayola,
Maurizio,
Fear,
Reuben Wilson,
Michelle Simonal,
The Index,
Bauhaus,
Brass Construction,
Arthur Verocai,
Metal Thangz,
Tomorrow,
JFA,
Graham Central Station,
Con Funk Shun,
Pharoah Sanders,
Shoche,
Roxy Music,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bobby Womack,
Yazoo,
Ituana,
Sonny Sharrock,
Susan Cadogan,
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.