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 Thailand and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 spring reverb 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 Pulsallama to the punk 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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
Sex Pistols,
Isaac Hayes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Trojans,
The Moody Blues,
Index,
The Associates,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Neon Judgement,
The Walker Brothers,
Robert Wyatt,
Kerrie Biddell,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Magazine,
Symarip,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rod Modell,
Lucky Dragons,
Eve St. Jones,
The Move,
Swell Maps,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lalann,
Desert Stars,
Reagan Youth,
Can,
Swans,
the Bar-Kays,
Pierre Henry,
Johnny Clarke,
Amon Düül,
Ronnie Foster,
Roxette,
Leonard Cohen,
Scratch Acid,
Joyce Sims,
The Grass Roots,
Organ,
The Modern Lovers,
Deakin,
Max Romeo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pulsallama,
EPMD,
Dark Day,
Circle Jerks,
8 Eyed Spy,
Derrick May,
Grandmaster Flash,
a-ha,
Flash Fearless,
Skaos,
Fear,
Ludus,
Warren Ellis,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.