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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the dance 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a AZ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Mandrill,
Interpol,
Unwound,
Bill Wells,
8 Eyed Spy,
New Age Steppers,
Albert Ayler,
Brass Construction,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Monks,
Wire,
Soft Cell,
Alphaville,
Ten City,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nirvana,
Saccharine Trust,
Fad Gadget,
David McCallum,
Reagan Youth,
Model 500,
Gang Green,
Tres Demented,
Nick Fraelich,
The Selecter,
Patti Smith,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Dave Clark Five,
Donald Byrd,
Gregory Isaacs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Radio Birdman,
Echospace,
The Barracudas,
Clear Light,
Radiopuhelimet,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Standells,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Minny Pops,
Lucky Dragons,
Gong,
Arcadia,
Scion,
Neu!,
Kurtis Blow,
Minutemen,
Hashim,
Terry Callier,
Al Stewart,
Juan Atkins,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Boogie Down Productions,
Urselle,
Charles Mingus,
Sunsets and Hearts,
10cc,
Delta 5,
Metal Thangz,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.