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 Laos and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Moody Blues to the crunk 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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Schoolly D 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kaleidoscope,
The Real Kids,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Move,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lakeside,
Royal Trux,
H. Thieme,
Al Stewart,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
David McCallum,
the Bar-Kays,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Dennis Brown,
David Axelrod,
Bobby Womack,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Pretty Things,
Sun Ra,
Glenn Branca,
The Kinks,
Vladislav Delay,
Crooked Eye,
Flash Fearless,
Skaos,
Soft Machine,
Reagan Youth,
The Tremeloes,
Sixth Finger,
Lebanon Hanover,
Suicide,
Derrick May,
Nirvana,
LL Cool J,
The Modern Lovers,
Marmalade,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Cowsills,
Aswad,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Sonics,
T. Rex,
Spandau Ballet,
The Dave Clark Five,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Gladiators,
Pet Shop Boys,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bobby Sherman,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tropical Tobacco,
Zero Boys,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eve St. Jones,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.