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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Donald Fagen 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 Black Bananas to the crunk 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 The Associates. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warren Ellis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Ronan,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Man Parrish,
Ossler,
Max Romeo,
Radio Birdman,
Brothers Johnson,
These Immortal Souls,
Neil Young,
David Bowie,
Rotary Connection,
Liliput,
Mandrill,
Severed Heads,
The Birthday Party,
Terrestrial Tones,
Alphaville,
Gang of Four,
Symarip,
The Residents,
The Dirtbombs,
Todd Terry,
Mark Hollis,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Moss Icon,
Depeche Mode,
Jerry's Kids,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Swell Maps,
The Blues Magoos,
Absolute Body Control,
KRS-One,
Duran Duran,
Buzzcocks,
Monolake,
Spoonie Gee,
Grauzone,
The Moody Blues,
Wire,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sun Ra,
Little Man,
Gregory Isaacs,
Thompson Twins,
The Velvet Underground,
Frankie Knuckles,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bobby Sherman,
Funkadelic,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Dawn Penn,
The Star Department,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Index,
Faraquet,
Rosa Yemen,
New York Dolls,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mr. Review,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti 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.