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 Saudi Arabia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Donald Fagen 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 Iggy Pop to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s 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 Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
Lungfish,
Public Enemy,
Sarah Menescal,
The Walker Brothers,
The Saints,
Tommy Roe,
Reuben Wilson,
Crime,
Fela Kuti,
The Blues Magoos,
T.S.O.L.,
Yazoo,
The Gladiators,
The Martian,
Can,
Todd Terry,
Wolf Eyes,
UT,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Blossom Toes,
David McCallum,
The Human League,
Fad Gadget,
Scott Walker,
Boz Scaggs,
Barry Ungar,
Mark Hollis,
Toni Rubio,
Carl Craig,
Fat Boys,
AZ,
Joy Division,
Jesper Dahlback,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pylon,
The Gap Band,
the Association,
Magma,
The Grass Roots,
Pierre Henry,
Interpol,
Anthony Braxton,
Eric Dolphy,
Dead Boys,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Todd Rundgren,
Babytalk,
Erykah Badu,
Talk Talk,
Ituana,
Ralphi Rosario,
Byron Stingily,
Minutemen,
Eve St. Jones,
Moby Grape,
Howard Jones,
Sister Nancy,
Cameo,
Flipper,
Johnny Clarke,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.