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 Sri Lanka and from Edmonton.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lille.
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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Marc Almond to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Associates. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
L. Decosne,
Liliput,
The Victims,
Carl Craig,
New York Dolls,
Goldenarms,
Bill Near,
Frankie Knuckles,
Soul II Soul,
Outsiders,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Stockholm Monsters,
Archie Shepp,
a-ha,
Max Romeo,
Terry Callier,
Sarah Menescal,
Alison Limerick,
MDC,
Ohio Players,
Traffic Nightmare,
Crash Course in Science,
Moby Grape,
Skriet,
Porter Ricks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Oblivians,
Cecil Taylor,
Au Pairs,
Leonard Cohen,
Sandy B,
Judy Mowatt,
Underground Resistance,
Talk Talk,
The Raincoats,
Skaos,
Harry Pussy,
Maurizio,
Absolute Body Control,
Pole,
Basic Channel,
Hardrive,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eve St. Jones,
Little Man,
Colin Newman,
Radiohead,
Suicide,
Bobby Womack,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Slits,
Pantaleimon,
Donald Byrd,
The Blues Magoos,
The Doobie Brothers,
Chris Corsano,
Dawn Penn,
Siglo XX,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.