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 Malawi and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 organ 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 Agent Orange to the crunk 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 the Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crooked Eye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Slick Rick,
Robert Wyatt,
L. Decosne,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Alice Coltrane,
Yusef Lateef,
Wasted Youth,
Althea and Donna,
Jimmy McGriff,
Matthew Halsall,
David Axelrod,
ABBA,
Ossler,
Gong,
The Golliwogs,
Girls At Our Best!,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Minutemen,
The Mojo Men,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Star Department,
Zero Boys,
Metal Thangz,
Ronnie Foster,
Black Bananas,
Drexciya,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Rod Modell,
Wings,
Tim Buckley,
Dual Sessions,
Joensuu 1685,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kurtis Blow,
Roy Ayers,
Popol Vuh,
Urselle,
The Gories,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bang On A Can,
LL Cool J,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Standells,
AZ,
the Sonics,
DJ Style,
Sixth Finger,
Bootsy Collins,
Das Ding,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lou Reed,
Colin Newman,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Faust,
Hoover,
the Soft Cell,
Ultra Naté,
Rites of Spring,
Scratch Acid,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.