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 Ireland and from Tehran.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Radio Birdman to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
DNA,
The Fortunes,
Flipper,
The Victims,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Minor Threat,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Los Fastidios,
Susan Cadogan,
Tomorrow,
H. Thieme,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sound Behaviour,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Deepchord,
Sarah Menescal,
The Beau Brummels,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Marine Girls,
The Grass Roots,
Soulsonic Force,
Glambeats Corp.,
Soul II Soul,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kool Moe Dee,
Darondo,
Popol Vuh,
Saccharine Trust,
Grauzone,
Fluxion,
Nick Fraelich,
Slick Rick,
Radiopuhelimet,
New York Dolls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Slackers,
The Durutti Column,
Bill Wells,
Beasts of Bourbon,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Gang Gang Dance,
Infiniti,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jandek,
Yaz,
Motorama,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Grey Daturas,
Bobby Womack,
Juan Atkins,
Massinfluence,
The Cure,
Dorothy Ashby,
Malaria!,
Connie Case,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.