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 Iran and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 arpeggiator 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 Agent Orange to the grunge 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 The Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Pussy Galore,
Ossler,
Blancmange,
Charles Mingus,
The Mojo Men,
Au Pairs,
Sister Nancy,
Soulsonic Force,
Susan Cadogan,
This Heat,
JFA,
The Names,
Kurtis Blow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Duran Duran,
U.S. Maple,
Harmonia,
Gang Starr,
Moby Grape,
Bobby Womack,
Pantaleimon,
Marc Almond,
Delta 5,
Ludus,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Marvin Gaye,
Brass Construction,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Isaac Hayes,
Country Teasers,
Maleditus Sound,
Blossom Toes,
Trumans Water,
Minnie Riperton,
The Stooges,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mark Hollis,
In Retrospect,
Pulsallama,
Soul Sonic Force,
Mad Mike,
June of 44,
Sam Rivers,
48th St. Collective,
Harry Pussy,
Talk Talk,
X-Ray Spex,
Ornette Coleman,
Ultimate Spinach,
Throbbing Gristle,
Graham Central Station,
The Electric Prunes,
Zapp,
The Victims,
Aaron Thompson,
Easy Going,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.