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 Swaziland and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Soft Machine to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Human League,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Remains,
Porter Ricks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sex Pistols,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Symarip,
John Holt,
New Order,
Wire,
Eddi Front,
Pantaleimon,
Von Mondo,
Groovy Waters,
Crispy Ambulance,
Suicide,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Moby Grape,
Byron Stingily,
Electric Prunes,
Joyce Sims,
Los Fastidios,
A Certain Ratio,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Boz Scaggs,
Oneida,
Matthew Bourne,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bang On A Can,
The Fuzztones,
Camberwell Now,
Laurel Aitken,
Davy DMX,
Alton Ellis,
Kenny Larkin,
Bill Near,
The New Christs,
Marc Almond,
AZ,
Kevin Saunderson,
Nas,
Hardrive,
Ten City,
Agitation Free,
Bill Wells,
Nirvana,
Rufus Thomas,
The Dave Clark Five,
Unwound,
Ornette Coleman,
Robert Hood,
Maurizio,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Joy Division,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
ABBA,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Radiohead,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.