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 Mozambique and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Accra and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 United States of America to the funk 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 Aswad. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alphaville record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fat Boys,
Black Pus,
DJ Sneak,
Warsaw,
Jesper Dahlback,
Tim Buckley,
Newcleus,
The Wake,
Matthew Halsall,
Unrelated Segments,
Los Fastidios,
Joensuu 1685,
Crooked Eye,
Interpol,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
A Certain Ratio,
Arab on Radar,
Sight & Sound,
Gong,
Piero Umiliani,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Don Cherry,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Soft Cell,
Qualms,
Sonic Youth,
Average White Band,
The Raincoats,
Surgeon,
Jeff Mills,
Joe Finger,
Harmonia,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Patti Smith,
The Tremeloes,
The Smoke,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Dave Clark Five,
Archie Shepp,
Organ,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cybotron,
Morten Harket,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Avey Tare,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Magazine,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Red Krayola,
Rakim,
The Durutti Column,
Sandy B,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Kerrie Biddell,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.