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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 harpsichord 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 Frankie Knuckles to the rap 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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jerry's Kids,
a-ha,
Soul Sonic Force,
Easy Going,
48th St. Collective,
Roxette,
Blossom Toes,
The Pretty Things,
Fugazi,
Can,
Depeche Mode,
Heaven 17,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Music Machine,
Duran Duran,
Jawbox,
Traffic Nightmare,
Section 25,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Freddie Wadling,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gastr Del Sol,
Godley & Creme,
Talk Talk,
Mandrill,
Sam Rivers,
The Leaves,
Lungfish,
Dorothy Ashby,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Amon Düül,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Siglo XX,
Malaria!,
The Skatalites,
Visage,
Gang Green,
Big Daddy Kane,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Fat Boys,
Ronnie Foster,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Maurizio,
Sonny Sharrock,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Procol Harum,
Carl Craig,
New York Dolls,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
EPMD,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Laurel Aitken,
Accadde A,
Sight & Sound,
The Motions,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Alton Ellis,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.