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 New Zealand and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Trumans Water,
The Slackers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Funkadelic,
Theoretical Girls,
Amon Düül II,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Amazonics,
Slave,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Don Cherry,
Aural Exciters,
Andrew Hill,
The Monks,
Sam Rivers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Dave Clark Five,
Lower 48,
Maleditus Sound,
Ken Boothe,
The Mojo Men,
John Holt,
the Slits,
Make Up,
Albert Ayler,
Henry Cow,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bobby Byrd,
Barry Ungar,
FM Einheit,
Bobby Sherman,
Bizarre Inc.,
Swell Maps,
Mark Hollis,
The Black Dice,
Glambeats Corp.,
Steve Hackett,
Kaleidoscope,
Robert Wyatt,
Urselle,
The Neon Judgement,
Rakim,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Black Bananas,
Sonny Sharrock,
John Coltrane,
Kerri Chandler,
Fela Kuti,
The Toasters,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Brand Nubian,
The Kinks,
Silicon Teens,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Standells,
Banda Bassotti,
Nick Fraelich,
Rhythm & Sound,
Intrusion,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.