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 Gambia and from Glasgow.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Tomorrow to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rotary Connection,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Crooked Eye,
Animal Collective,
The Techniques,
Excepter,
Barclay James Harvest,
Steve Hackett,
Angry Samoans,
Sister Nancy,
Nirvana,
Los Fastidios,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Make Up,
Bill Near,
Thompson Twins,
Gang Gang Dance,
Minny Pops,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Severed Heads,
Grey Daturas,
Oneida,
Adolescents,
Nas,
The Misunderstood,
Danielle Patucci,
Patti Smith,
Hashim,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Camouflage,
The United States of America,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
This Heat,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
New Age Steppers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Fuzztones,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Agitation Free,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ohio Players,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Funky Four + One,
David McCallum,
Bobby Byrd,
Laurel Aitken,
The Flesh Eaters,
Outsiders,
the Germs,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Mummies,
Swans,
The Alarm Clocks,
Absolute Body Control,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.