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 Guinea-Bissau and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Donald Fagen 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the disco 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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Subhumans 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
Siglo XX,
Colin Newman,
The Martian,
Soulsonic Force,
Nik Kershaw,
Scientists,
Sonny Sharrock,
John Lydon,
Mr. Review,
Panda Bear,
Big Daddy Kane,
Freddie Wadling,
Sarah Menescal,
Unwound,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gabor Szabo,
Cluster,
Danielle Patucci,
Smog,
Electric Prunes,
John Coltrane,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bobby Sherman,
Wire,
Flipper,
Massinfluence,
Harry Pussy,
Jeff Lynne,
Ornette Coleman,
John Cale,
Malaria!,
E-Dancer,
Sound Behaviour,
Aloha Tigers,
Joyce Sims,
U.S. Maple,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Thee Headcoats,
48th St. Collective,
Lungfish,
The Pop Group,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tears for Fears,
Al Stewart,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Dave Gahan,
Harpers Bizarre,
Wally Richardson,
The Last Poets,
Susan Cadogan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Neil Young,
Scott Walker,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Althea and Donna,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Minnie Riperton,
Camouflage,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.