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 Burkina and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 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 DeepChord presents Echospace to the rock 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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Ossler,
Wire,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eric B and Rakim,
Audionom,
Essential Logic,
Jandek,
Cecil Taylor,
John Cale,
The Monochrome Set,
R.M.O.,
Robert Hood,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Freddie Wadling,
Judy Mowatt,
Crime,
Byron Stingily,
Sugar Minott,
Jeff Lynne,
Nils Olav,
Rufus Thomas,
Pussy Galore,
Piero Umiliani,
Ponytail,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Andrew Hill,
Morten Harket,
The Trojans,
Minny Pops,
Moss Icon,
Jacques Brel,
Black Pus,
Franke,
Blossom Toes,
Second Layer,
Lakeside,
Roxette,
Kayak,
Lou Reed,
Joyce Sims,
Dennis Brown,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Fania All-Stars,
Tres Demented,
Sound Behaviour,
The Walker Brothers,
Tom Boy,
K-Klass,
Jesper Dahlback,
Babytalk,
Toni Rubio,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gang of Four,
Barbara Tucker,
Accadde A,
Depeche Mode,
Darondo,
The Fire Engines,
Technova,
Colin Newman,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.