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 Uruguay and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 linndrum 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 The Divine Comedy to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Marcia Griffiths,
Camberwell Now,
Absolute Body Control,
Boz Scaggs,
Y Pants,
KRS-One,
Nik Kershaw,
ABC,
Inner City,
DJ Sneak,
F. McDonald,
The Toasters,
Suicide,
Sex Pistols,
The Selecter,
Dave Gahan,
Sam Rivers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
UT,
Pylon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Derrick Morgan,
The Flesh Eaters,
Interpol,
Tubeway Army,
James White and The Blacks,
Trumans Water,
The Stooges,
Urselle,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mission of Burma,
Wasted Youth,
Oneida,
Eric Copeland,
Andrew Hill,
Masters at Work,
Barrington Levy,
Alison Limerick,
Wolf Eyes,
Jacob Miller,
Intrusion,
The New Christs,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Fluxion,
The Sonics,
Sugar Minott,
the Bar-Kays,
Eric Dolphy,
Pantaleimon,
The Raincoats,
David Axelrod,
Joyce Sims,
Bootsy Collins,
Amon Düül,
The American Breed,
The Dirtbombs,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.