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 Tanzania and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 guitar 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 Traffic Nightmare to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Zapp,
The Golliwogs,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Martian,
Eric B and Rakim,
The J.B.'s,
Altered Images,
T. Rex,
The Mummies,
Amon Düül,
Alton Ellis,
The Moleskins,
Unwound,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Selecter,
La Düsseldorf,
Bill Wells,
the Human League,
Icehouse,
Deadbeat,
Fat Boys,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Minnie Riperton,
Toni Rubio,
Black Sheep,
Marvin Gaye,
Sparks,
Todd Terry,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Blues Magoos,
cv313,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Young Marble Giants,
Gabor Szabo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Misunderstood,
Marine Girls,
The Motions,
Malaria!,
The Birthday Party,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Victims,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pantytec,
Amon Düül II,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rekid,
Minny Pops,
Josef K,
Kenny Larkin,
Animal Collective,
Flamin' Groovies,
Stereo Dub,
Terrestrial Tones,
Chrome,
Archie Shepp,
Prince Buster,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.