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 Gabon and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
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 Archie Shepp to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All ABC 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 funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Schoolly D,
Lungfish,
Angry Samoans,
Pantaleimon,
Arcadia,
Magazine,
James White and The Blacks,
The Golliwogs,
Magma,
Ultravox,
The Shadows of Knight,
Leonard Cohen,
The Blackbyrds,
Stereo Dub,
Johnny Osbourne,
ABC,
Joey Negro,
Anakelly,
Soft Machine,
Bootsy Collins,
Graham Central Station,
Mad Mike,
Oneida,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Residents,
Accadde A,
Isaac Hayes,
The Pop Group,
Funkadelic,
Whodini,
the Swans,
The Pretty Things,
New York Dolls,
Junior Murvin,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Electric Prunes,
The Trojans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Fugazi,
Donald Byrd,
Pussy Galore,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Public Enemy,
Dawn Penn,
Sam Rivers,
Freddie Wadling,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sight & Sound,
Delta 5,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Move,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Reuben Wilson,
the Normal,
Althea and Donna,
Barbara Tucker,
D'Angelo,
Chris & Cosey,
X-101,
U.S. Maple,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.