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 Rwanda and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Johannesburg.
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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Scott Walker to the dance 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 The Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Major Organ And The Adding Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Alarm Clocks,
F. McDonald,
Saccharine Trust,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobby Byrd,
Rotary Connection,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pantytec,
The Blues Magoos,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fatback Band,
ABC,
Bob Dylan,
Slick Rick,
Camberwell Now,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bill Near,
Cheater Slicks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Cymande,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Fugs,
Mad Mike,
Delta 5,
Roxy Music,
The Victims,
The Neon Judgement,
Whodini,
The Smoke,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Basic Channel,
David McCallum,
Dead Boys,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
X-Ray Spex,
Iggy Pop,
Reuben Wilson,
Lungfish,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Barracudas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Moss Icon,
John Holt,
The Litter,
Absolute Body Control,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Crime,
Parry Music,
Mr. Review,
Faust,
Royal Trux,
A Certain Ratio,
Kool Moe Dee,
Anthony Braxton,
Average White Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Surgeon,
Metal Thangz,
Procol Harum,
Theoretical Girls,
Wally Richardson,
48th St. Collective,
Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters.
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.