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 Equatorial Guinea and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 H. Thieme to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Funky Four + One. All the underground hits.
All Sonic Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja 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 a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dorothy Ashby record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
Slick Rick,
The Misunderstood,
Marvin Gaye,
Supertramp,
Crime,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gang Starr,
Judy Mowatt,
Amazonics,
Radiopuhelimet,
Camouflage,
Bluetip,
Ice-T,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Funky Four + One,
Half Japanese,
David Axelrod,
Sun Ra,
Unrelated Segments,
Terry Callier,
The Real Kids,
Idris Muhammad,
Stockholm Monsters,
Fear,
L. Decosne,
Marmalade,
the Soft Cell,
Arthur Verocai,
John Coltrane,
Charles Mingus,
Sällskapet,
Fad Gadget,
Chris & Cosey,
E-Dancer,
The Beau Brummels,
The Saints,
Archie Shepp,
the Slits,
MDC,
Gil Scott Heron,
Brass Construction,
Black Flag,
Wolf Eyes,
Kerrie Biddell,
Skriet,
Jerry Gold Smith,
LL Cool J,
Robert Görl,
ABC,
Piero Umiliani,
Monolake,
Sandy B,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lyres,
Ornette Coleman,
the Swans,
Electric Prunes,
Japan,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.