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 Guinea-Bissau and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 David Bowie 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 James White and The Blacks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sparks. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Halsall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kevin Saunderson,
Jerry's Kids,
Big Daddy Kane,
Outsiders,
The Leaves,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marine Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tears for Fears,
Tim Buckley,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Human League,
Masters at Work,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Alice Coltrane,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Kinks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Motorama,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ten City,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Junior Murvin,
The Motions,
Youth Brigade,
Metal Thangz,
Matthew Bourne,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sparks,
The Cramps,
Darondo,
JFA,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Slits,
Chris Corsano,
Frankie Knuckles,
The J.B.'s,
Excepter,
The Seeds,
The New Christs,
Wasted Youth,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lucky Dragons,
The Mojo Men,
The Gladiators,
The Cowsills,
World's Most,
Boredoms,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Rites of Spring,
Aural Exciters,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Donny Hathaway,
Bauhaus,
Yellowson,
Grey Daturas,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.