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 Cuba and from Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Clear Light to the crunk 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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
The Star Department,
New Age Steppers,
The Gories,
the Swans,
The Remains,
Thee Headcoats,
The Buckinghams,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Cowsills,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Misunderstood,
Buzzcocks,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Divine Comedy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sonny Sharrock,
Cymande,
Dennis Brown,
Scrapy,
A Certain Ratio,
Black Flag,
Babytalk,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Beau Brummels,
The Moleskins,
Suicide,
Todd Terry,
Blossom Toes,
Tubeway Army,
X-101,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ituana,
The Monochrome Set,
the Sonics,
The Flesh Eaters,
Masters at Work,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pantytec,
Yusef Lateef,
Idris Muhammad,
The Raincoats,
Cluster,
Talk Talk,
R.M.O.,
Ponytail,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Massinfluence,
Pole,
Angry Samoans,
The New Christs,
Piero Umiliani,
Gichy Dan,
Matthew Halsall,
Supertramp,
Mission of Burma,
Vainqueur,
Skaos,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Five Americans,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Soulsonic Force,
Radio Birdman,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.