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 Niger and from Salvador.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Eli Mardock to the disco 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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets 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 rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Dirtbombs,
Avey Tare,
Gastr Del Sol,
Oblivians,
Wasted Youth,
New Age Steppers,
Chrome,
Sight & Sound,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Iggy Pop,
Ossler,
New Order,
Amon Düül II,
Adolescents,
Procol Harum,
Surgeon,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Dark Day,
JFA,
The Fall,
The Sonics,
Robert Wyatt,
Ituana,
Deepchord,
Yellowson,
The Raincoats,
Fat Boys,
Wire,
Thompson Twins,
Mary Jane Girls,
Grey Daturas,
Henry Cow,
Mr. Review,
The Cowsills,
Flamin' Groovies,
Crash Course in Science,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Scott Walker,
Idris Muhammad,
Isaac Hayes,
This Heat,
Marmalade,
Quando Quango,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Dawn Penn,
Alice Coltrane,
Electric Prunes,
D'Angelo,
Fugazi,
Gong,
Glenn Branca,
The Smoke,
Mantronix,
Todd Rundgren,
Subhumans,
Smog,
The Moleskins,
Urselle,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.