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 Angola and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 Arab on Radar to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Easy Going. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Subhumans,
The Selecter,
The Young Rascals,
The Last Poets,
The Slits,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Henry Cow,
Rod Modell,
Ponytail,
Moby Grape,
Wire,
Chris Corsano,
The Gun Club,
Cheater Slicks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Connie Case,
Sister Nancy,
Slick Rick,
The Remains,
Big Daddy Kane,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rufus Thomas,
New York Dolls,
Ten City,
Kool Moe Dee,
Easy Going,
Reuben Wilson,
Icehouse,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Associates,
Bush Tetras,
Barry Ungar,
Todd Terry,
Bobby Byrd,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Angels of Light,
Ituana,
Pylon,
Dave Gahan,
Davy DMX,
Juan Atkins,
The Fall,
Country Teasers,
The Blues Magoos,
Quadrant,
Delon & Dalcan,
Depeche Mode,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bob Dylan,
Al Stewart,
David Bowie,
Make Up,
PIL,
Cluster,
Monolake,
Parry Music,
Scientists,
Basic Channel,
Franke,
Magma,
Gang of Four,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.