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 Dominica and from Bologna.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Black Dice to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! 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 rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Absolute Body Control,
Bobby Sherman,
The Five Americans,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Echospace,
8 Eyed Spy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Panda Bear,
Ludus,
Amon Düül II,
Scratch Acid,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fela Kuti,
ABC,
Trumans Water,
Groovy Waters,
Guru Guru,
The Mojo Men,
Lakeside,
the Germs,
Ken Boothe,
Monolake,
June Days,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
John Coltrane,
Pagans,
Swell Maps,
Roxy Music,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kerri Chandler,
Warsaw,
DNA,
New York Dolls,
Vainqueur,
The Toasters,
Intrusion,
Yusef Lateef,
Franke,
This Heat,
Silicon Teens,
Grandmaster Flash,
Nation of Ulysses,
Matthew Halsall,
Dark Day,
Crime,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Goldenarms,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pussy Galore,
Johnny Osbourne,
Newcleus,
Eddi Front,
Moby Grape,
Oneida,
The Smiths,
X-101,
Josef K,
Chris Corsano,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Outsiders,
Robert Wyatt,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.