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 Paraguay and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Michael McDonald 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 Tremeloes to the dance 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
the Sonics,
Stockholm Monsters,
Neu!,
Terry Callier,
The Velvet Underground,
Monolake,
Los Fastidios,
Rod Modell,
The Mummies,
Pantaleimon,
Amon Düül II,
Audionom,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Silicon Teens,
Bob Dylan,
Sex Pistols,
Johnny Clarke,
Dual Sessions,
FM Einheit,
the Association,
Bluetip,
Easy Going,
Arthur Verocai,
48th St. Collective,
Clear Light,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tears for Fears,
Liliput,
The Names,
Young Marble Giants,
Letta Mbulu,
Nas,
Gong,
Dorothy Ashby,
New Order,
Bill Wells,
B.T. Express,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Radiopuhelimet,
Quadrant,
Skarface,
Skaos,
Peter and Kerry,
Bush Tetras,
The Divine Comedy,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Soft Cell,
Babytalk,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Aloha Tigers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Metal Thangz,
Pierre Henry,
X-Ray Spex,
Ronnie Foster,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ituana,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.