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 United Kingdom and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Tommy Roe to the rap 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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Bronski Beat,
The Beau Brummels,
The Litter,
Excepter,
Boredoms,
Eve St. Jones,
Pere Ubu,
Khruangbin,
John Coltrane,
Todd Terry,
Roxette,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lee Hazlewood,
cv313,
Thee Headcoats,
Bauhaus,
Crash Course in Science,
The Saints,
Rosa Yemen,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Swell Maps,
Camberwell Now,
Prince Buster,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Zapp,
MC5,
Eric B and Rakim,
Scratch Acid,
Minnie Riperton,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Mo-Dettes,
Patti Smith,
Joe Smooth,
One Last Wish,
The Trojans,
Man Eating Sloth,
Essential Logic,
This Heat,
Masters at Work,
The Blues Magoos,
Neu!,
Wings,
David Axelrod,
David Bowie,
Big Daddy Kane,
Audionom,
Rapeman,
David McCallum,
The Gladiators,
Skriet,
Ornette Coleman,
Bad Manners,
Pantytec,
the Soft Cell,
DNA,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Absolute Body Control,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Roy Ayers,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.