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 Thailand and from Halifax.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Trojans to the techno 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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Organ,
Pantaleimon,
Inner City,
Franke,
A Certain Ratio,
The Young Rascals,
Von Mondo,
Neil Young,
Suicide,
Depeche Mode,
Gerry Rafferty,
Jacques Brel,
Ultra Naté,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Scientists,
Idris Muhammad,
Davy DMX,
The Trojans,
The Count Five,
Motorama,
Siglo XX,
Black Pus,
the Bar-Kays,
The Saints,
Ponytail,
Rakim,
The Index,
Soft Machine,
The Fugs,
Drexciya,
Malaria!,
Slick Rick,
Dorothy Ashby,
Make Up,
Yusef Lateef,
This Heat,
Jerry's Kids,
Lou Reed,
Kurtis Blow,
Chris & Cosey,
Infiniti,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mandrill,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Scott Walker,
48th St. Collective,
Tubeway Army,
John Holt,
Nirvana,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Intrusion,
Public Image Ltd.,
The United States of America,
Sarah Menescal,
Eurythmics,
The Pretty Things,
The Gun Club,
Kayak,
Kerri Chandler,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.