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 Somalia and from Mumbai.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Glambeats Corp. to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Joe Finger,
Japan,
Gong,
Quantec,
James White and The Blacks,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Buckinghams,
Icehouse,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sex Pistols,
Magma,
Black Sheep,
Bobby Byrd,
Jeru the Damaja,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Gladiators,
Curtis Mayfield,
B.T. Express,
Joey Negro,
Sun City Girls,
Bill Wells,
Echospace,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Misunderstood,
John Coltrane,
Reuben Wilson,
Unrelated Segments,
Rod Modell,
Babytalk,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Intrusion,
Organ,
Al Stewart,
The Leaves,
Tommy Roe,
Kurtis Blow,
Nico,
The Velvet Underground,
Swell Maps,
Dennis Brown,
Roy Ayers,
Soul II Soul,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Real Kids,
MDC,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jesper Dahlback,
Drive Like Jehu,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ultravox,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Drexciya,
Loose Ends,
Boz Scaggs,
Monolake,
Lungfish,
Bad Manners,
Derrick Morgan,
Barclay James Harvest,
Groovy Waters,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.