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 Costa Rica and from Philadelphia.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Visage to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brand Nubian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
The Dirtbombs,
Tres Demented,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Qualms,
The Raincoats,
Pantaleimon,
Donald Byrd,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Rosa Yemen,
Drexciya,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Joey Negro,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Fire Engines,
Mantronix,
Scientists,
The J.B.'s,
Stetsasonic,
June of 44,
Grauzone,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Todd Terry,
The Durutti Column,
Zapp,
The Knickerbockers,
Deakin,
The Detroit Cobras,
Maleditus Sound,
DJ Style,
Clear Light,
Sugar Minott,
The Blues Magoos,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
A Certain Ratio,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cheater Slicks,
The Gladiators,
The Leaves,
Peter & Gordon,
Alphaville,
Model 500,
The Gories,
Interpol,
The Trojans,
Blake Baxter,
Throbbing Gristle,
Warren Ellis,
The Tremeloes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Derrick May,
Rekid,
Archie Shepp,
Erykah Badu,
Harry Pussy,
Eric B and Rakim,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Count Five,
Judy Mowatt,
Metal Thangz,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.