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 Peru and from Salvador.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 snare 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 Nils Olav to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt 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 techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
The Fortunes,
Barbara Tucker,
Rufus Thomas,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pylon,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pole,
Pierre Henry,
Rotary Connection,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
H. Thieme,
Los Fastidios,
Jeru the Damaja,
Carl Craig,
Dead Boys,
Joy Division,
Todd Terry,
World's Most,
Juan Atkins,
Quantec,
The Slits,
Jeff Lynne,
Avey Tare,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Index,
Spoonie Gee,
Mars,
The United States of America,
Neu!,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Malaria!,
X-Ray Spex,
Scratch Acid,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Alton Ellis,
Quando Quango,
Warren Ellis,
Unrelated Segments,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Golliwogs,
Kerrie Biddell,
China Crisis,
Yaz,
Mr. Review,
The Five Americans,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Organ,
The Neon Judgement,
Crooked Eye,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Aswad,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Reuben Wilson,
Slick Rick,
Eli Mardock,
the Association,
Sparks,
Supertramp,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.