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 New Zealand and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Altered Images to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Tommy Roe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Wally Richardson,
Ituana,
The Evens,
Harry Pussy,
Surgeon,
Arthur Verocai,
The Happenings,
Jeru the Damaja,
Terrestrial Tones,
Blake Baxter,
Peter and Kerry,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Moby Grape,
The Trojans,
Symarip,
June of 44,
Joensuu 1685,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Gories,
Siglo XX,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Divine Comedy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Blossom Toes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ronan,
Yaz,
Lower 48,
Gang Starr,
The Kinks,
Faust,
Man Eating Sloth,
Trumans Water,
Pulsallama,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Oneida,
Angry Samoans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Amazonics,
The Index,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rotary Connection,
Yazoo,
Sixth Finger,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Boz Scaggs,
The Names,
The Tremeloes,
The Fire Engines,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The J.B.'s,
a-ha,
The Star Department,
Carl Craig,
Nico,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Fugazi,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.