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 Pakistan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Suburban Knight to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soulsonic Force record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Nico,
The Slits,
Los Fastidios,
kango's stein massive,
James White and The Blacks,
Con Funk Shun,
The Slackers,
Mantronix,
The Durutti Column,
Dual Sessions,
John Holt,
Arthur Verocai,
Bobby Byrd,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Technova,
Junior Murvin,
Robert Hood,
Letta Mbulu,
A Certain Ratio,
Eurythmics,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Mr. Review,
Camouflage,
Urselle,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pierre Henry,
Yellowson,
New Order,
Ossler,
Robert Wyatt,
Bronski Beat,
Ultra Naté,
the Swans,
Inner City,
Whodini,
June Days,
Kas Product,
Oneida,
Sandy B,
Eric Dolphy,
the Sonics,
Desert Stars,
Jawbox,
Qualms,
Shoche,
Rosa Yemen,
DNA,
JFA,
Amazonics,
John Lydon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sixth Finger,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mandrill,
Harpers Bizarre,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Human League,
X-Ray Spex,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.