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 Tunisia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Paris and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord 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 Bill Near to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Standells,
Joe Smooth,
Howard Jones,
Girls At Our Best!,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Minor Threat,
John Coltrane,
Ten City,
Terrestrial Tones,
Livin' Joy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Avey Tare,
Iggy Pop,
Johnny Osbourne,
Dawn Penn,
The Move,
Can,
Roger Hodgson,
Rakim,
Sixth Finger,
Mark Hollis,
The Shadows of Knight,
Duran Duran,
Maurizio,
A Certain Ratio,
10cc,
The Fire Engines,
Tomorrow,
Cecil Taylor,
Quantec,
Chris & Cosey,
Lindisfarne,
Con Funk Shun,
Sound Behaviour,
Anthony Braxton,
The Monochrome Set,
The Kinks,
Nik Kershaw,
Ohio Players,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Roxy Music,
Gang Green,
June Days,
Interpol,
Nirvana,
The Grass Roots,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Sonics,
Swell Maps,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Monks,
Eric Copeland,
Wings,
Leonard Cohen,
Altered Images,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Agitation Free,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.