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 Zimbabwe and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba 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 Hoover to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Von Mondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Soul II Soul,
Spoonie Gee,
Hasil Adkins,
Donald Byrd,
Masters at Work,
Dark Day,
The Durutti Column,
Jerry Gold Smith,
China Crisis,
Harry Pussy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Black Dice,
Skriet,
Black Sheep,
Nirvana,
The Fugs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Soft Machine,
Anakelly,
Fugazi,
Michelle Simonal,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Funkadelic,
Black Flag,
Gang of Four,
Matthew Halsall,
Make Up,
Reagan Youth,
Gang Starr,
Clear Light,
Deadbeat,
Neil Young,
Metal Thangz,
Marmalade,
Angry Samoans,
Anthony Braxton,
Mary Jane Girls,
Arcadia,
Tim Buckley,
Camouflage,
The Five Americans,
The Alarm Clocks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sparks,
Can,
Cybotron,
Scientists,
New Order,
The Techniques,
Nas,
The Beau Brummels,
Procol Harum,
Robert Hood,
Babytalk,
OOIOO,
Dead Boys,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Gastr Del Sol,
K-Klass,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.