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 Finland and from Cairo.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Rod Modell to the rap 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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Severed Heads,
The Skatalites,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lou Reed,
Ornette Coleman,
Peter and Kerry,
Dark Day,
Sandy B,
Porter Ricks,
Khruangbin,
Rapeman,
Visage,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pylon,
The Barracudas,
Royal Trux,
China Crisis,
Curtis Mayfield,
Minutemen,
The Moody Blues,
Deepchord,
The Standells,
Bizarre Inc.,
Hot Snakes,
Drexciya,
Magazine,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bluetip,
The Techniques,
Leonard Cohen,
The Cramps,
Erykah Badu,
Spandau Ballet,
MC5,
Gang Starr,
The Pop Group,
Tim Buckley,
Stiv Bators,
T.S.O.L.,
Wasted Youth,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tomorrow,
David Bowie,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The United States of America,
Jeru the Damaja,
ABBA,
Nick Fraelich,
John Holt,
Johnny Clarke,
The Fall,
Freddie Wadling,
Jeff Lynne,
Marcia Griffiths,
Scientists,
Crash Course in Science,
Suburban Knight,
John Foxx,
Pagans,
Andrew Hill,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.