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 Panama and from Johannesburg.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Holger Czukay 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 The Doobie Brothers to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David McCallum,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Man Parrish,
The Kinks,
Bush Tetras,
Barry Ungar,
The Gun Club,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Fugs,
Max Romeo,
Easy Going,
The Angels of Light,
Tropical Tobacco,
New York Dolls,
Kayak,
Gregory Isaacs,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Boz Scaggs,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
X-Ray Spex,
Silicon Teens,
Sällskapet,
Dawn Penn,
The Monks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Michelle Simonal,
Bluetip,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Fluxion,
Khruangbin,
The Invisible,
Suicide,
Joyce Sims,
Supertramp,
The Human League,
Barrington Levy,
Roxy Music,
Girls At Our Best!,
The American Breed,
David Bowie,
June Days,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lakeside,
Eden Ahbez,
Pole,
Eric Dolphy,
Wings,
Roy Ayers,
The Evens,
Mary Jane Girls,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cybotron,
Slave,
Half Japanese,
Pagans,
Ponytail,
Masters at Work,
The Blues Magoos,
Tomorrow,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.