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 Kyrgyzstan and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin 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 F. McDonald to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sarah Menescal,
Chris Corsano,
Siglo XX,
Altered Images,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Brand Nubian,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Misunderstood,
kango's stein massive,
Spoonie Gee,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bluetip,
June Days,
Fad Gadget,
Zero Boys,
Andrew Hill,
Jeru the Damaja,
ABBA,
Eli Mardock,
The Fuzztones,
Sixth Finger,
Country Teasers,
Bronski Beat,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Carl Craig,
Basic Channel,
These Immortal Souls,
Kaleidoscope,
The Smoke,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Music Machine,
Grandmaster Flash,
Joe Smooth,
Barry Ungar,
The Happenings,
Sugar Minott,
Mission of Burma,
Barrington Levy,
The Slackers,
Fela Kuti,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Wolf Eyes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
H. Thieme,
The Alarm Clocks,
T. Rex,
The Moody Blues,
Isaac Hayes,
Bauhaus,
EPMD,
U.S. Maple,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Archie Shepp,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Minny Pops,
Model 500,
Dawn Penn,
Fatback Band,
Echospace,
Spandau Ballet,
Babytalk,
Guru Guru,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.