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 Maldives and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 guitar 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 Prince Buster to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a cv313 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
Bob Dylan,
John Holt,
Robert Wyatt,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Knickerbockers,
The Martian,
Au Pairs,
Alphaville,
David Bowie,
The Young Rascals,
Jeff Mills,
Cybotron,
Flamin' Groovies,
Procol Harum,
The Slackers,
The Real Kids,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
R.M.O.,
The Litter,
Neil Young,
Bronski Beat,
James Chance & The Contortions,
In Retrospect,
Ituana,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Laurel Aitken,
Absolute Body Control,
Sight & Sound,
Althea and Donna,
Albert Ayler,
Davy DMX,
Howard Jones,
The Pop Group,
Jeru the Damaja,
Warsaw,
Lalo Schifrin,
Amon Düül II,
The Mojo Men,
KRS-One,
Country Joe & The Fish,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Angels of Light,
Ohio Players,
OOIOO,
Underground Resistance,
Khruangbin,
Avey Tare,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Swans,
Bootsy Collins,
Eve St. Jones,
Scratch Acid,
The Busters,
Fad Gadget,
Joe Smooth,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Piero Umiliani,
A Certain Ratio,
Barclay James Harvest,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.