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 Niger and from Copenhagen.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the electroclash 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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gregory Isaacs 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Cluster,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ten City,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Electric Prunes,
a-ha,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Clear Light,
Andrew Hill,
The Dave Clark Five,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Quantec,
Masters at Work,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
DJ Style,
K-Klass,
Von Mondo,
The Gladiators,
Colin Newman,
Lalann,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Oblivians,
Thee Headcoats,
Terrestrial Tones,
Goldenarms,
The Electric Prunes,
Stockholm Monsters,
B.T. Express,
Accadde A,
Metal Thangz,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dennis Brown,
Freddie Wadling,
Eric Copeland,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Q and Not U,
The Fuzztones,
Sonic Youth,
Spandau Ballet,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Don Cherry,
Slave,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sam Rivers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Crooked Eye,
Loose Ends,
Black Moon,
The Standells,
Harmonia,
Yaz,
Josef K,
Ultimate Spinach,
Harpers Bizarre,
Motorama,
Television,
Eve St. Jones,
Grey Daturas,
Schoolly D,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.