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 Eritrea and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Patti Smith to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fall,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Electric Prunes,
The J.B.'s,
Soulsonic Force,
Qualms,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Neon Judgement,
Harry Pussy,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scratch Acid,
Skriet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Funky Four + One,
Blake Baxter,
Neil Young,
Little Man,
Cluster,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Cameo,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Golliwogs,
the Sonics,
Hardrive,
Kaleidoscope,
Piero Umiliani,
Bob Dylan,
Mo-Dettes,
Graham Central Station,
The Detroit Cobras,
Outsiders,
Grey Daturas,
Minutemen,
Joyce Sims,
Cal Tjader,
Malaria!,
The Leaves,
Wings,
Boredoms,
Mission of Burma,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Crispy Ambulance,
Boz Scaggs,
The Move,
The Raincoats,
Gil Scott Heron,
Circle Jerks,
Laurel Aitken,
Black Sheep,
Kool Moe Dee,
Prince Buster,
Thompson Twins,
Fear,
Franke,
Wally Richardson,
The Red Krayola,
the Human League,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.