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 Argentina and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Procol Harum to the rap 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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultramagnetic MC's record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Barbara Tucker,
Panda Bear,
a-ha,
Marine Girls,
Zapp,
The Invisible,
Television,
Das Ding,
The Tremeloes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Technova,
ABBA,
Livin' Joy,
Procol Harum,
Bad Manners,
The Cowsills,
Skriet,
Sixth Finger,
Amazonics,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Skarface,
Big Daddy Kane,
Marshall Jefferson,
La Düsseldorf,
Alison Limerick,
Adolescents,
Scratch Acid,
Ten City,
Can,
Flipper,
Blancmange,
Black Flag,
The Dirtbombs,
The Red Krayola,
DNA,
China Crisis,
Terrestrial Tones,
Stiv Bators,
The Knickerbockers,
The Slackers,
T. Rex,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ultravox,
Sex Pistols,
The Birthday Party,
Nirvana,
Young Marble Giants,
Eli Mardock,
The Sisters of Mercy,
B.T. Express,
Jerry's Kids,
the Germs,
Matthew Halsall,
Sällskapet,
Althea and Donna,
Wally Richardson,
The Monks,
Scientists,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.