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 Mozambique and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Anthony Braxton to the crunk 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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
Cal Tjader,
Brothers Johnson,
Althea and Donna,
Technova,
A Certain Ratio,
The Kinks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Dead Boys,
David McCallum,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Goldenarms,
Outsiders,
The Durutti Column,
Franke,
Mars,
Fat Boys,
Nico,
Albert Ayler,
The Modern Lovers,
The Motions,
Erasure,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Q and Not U,
Metal Thangz,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Essential Logic,
Stiv Bators,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
New York Dolls,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ice-T,
Liliput,
Scratch Acid,
The Fall,
Icehouse,
Malaria!,
David Bowie,
The Star Department,
Bootsy Collins,
Sarah Menescal,
CMW,
The Blackbyrds,
Newcleus,
Sex Pistols,
Half Japanese,
Bronski Beat,
Lucky Dragons,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Maurizio,
Dennis Brown,
John Cale,
Eve St. Jones,
Anthony Braxton,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Moleskins,
Ultimate Spinach,
Andrew Hill,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
In Retrospect,
The Invisible,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.