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 Sierra Leone and from Toronto.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ken Boothe to the techno 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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Von Mondo,
Masters at Work,
Nils Olav,
Max Romeo,
Sparks,
Bronski Beat,
Freddie Wadling,
Man Parrish,
Audionom,
Angry Samoans,
The Star Department,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lungfish,
Charles Mingus,
Girls At Our Best!,
Talk Talk,
Rakim,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
China Crisis,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pussy Galore,
Sixth Finger,
The Last Poets,
Wolf Eyes,
Khruangbin,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nik Kershaw,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Anakelly,
Joyce Sims,
Zapp,
Thee Headcoats,
Bluetip,
Fela Kuti,
Todd Terry,
Ronan,
The Birthday Party,
Smog,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Carl Craig,
Toni Rubio,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Junior Murvin,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Suburban Knight,
Index,
Davy DMX,
Symarip,
The Dead C,
The New Christs,
The Shadows of Knight,
Prince Buster,
Youth Brigade,
Mark Hollis,
Shuggie Otis,
Rekid,
The Kinks,
Siglo XX,
Sonny Sharrock,
ABBA,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.