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 Somalia and from Seoul.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 synthesizer 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 The Detroit Cobras to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Darondo,
The Skatalites,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Suburban Knight,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Black Dice,
Echospace,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rapeman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Godley & Creme,
Ultra Naté,
These Immortal Souls,
Harry Pussy,
Unwound,
John Holt,
Gang Green,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Deepchord,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Reagan Youth,
R.M.O.,
The Slits,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Franke,
Kurtis Blow,
Mandrill,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Techniques,
KRS-One,
Prince Buster,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kerri Chandler,
Magma,
The Misunderstood,
Spandau Ballet,
Stereo Dub,
DJ Style,
Bronski Beat,
John Coltrane,
The Gap Band,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Pop Group,
Model 500,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Index,
Fort Wilson Riot,
World's Most,
Sandy B,
the Human League,
Warren Ellis,
Junior Murvin,
Loose Ends,
Tim Buckley,
Bad Manners,
Amon Düül II,
Rufus Thomas,
The Gories,
Donald Byrd,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.