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 Costa Rica and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Black Flag to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Rapeman,
Terry Callier,
X-Ray Spex,
Grauzone,
Crispy Ambulance,
Harry Pussy,
Cecil Taylor,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Index,
The Litter,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
A Certain Ratio,
Black Moon,
Nation of Ulysses,
Charles Mingus,
Brick,
The Divine Comedy,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jeff Mills,
Circle Jerks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Rufus Thomas,
Brothers Johnson,
Wasted Youth,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
the Normal,
PIL,
Crispian St. Peters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Searchers,
Desert Stars,
Fela Kuti,
H. Thieme,
The J.B.'s,
the Sonics,
Soul II Soul,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dual Sessions,
Parry Music,
Darondo,
The Pretty Things,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Gories,
Stereo Dub,
Todd Terry,
Gang Starr,
Tres Demented,
Skarface,
Ralphi Rosario,
Qualms,
Underground Resistance,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The American Breed,
Bill Near,
Cybotron,
The Red Krayola,
the Bar-Kays,
Lalann,
Juan Atkins,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.