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 Lesotho and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Mr. Review to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Motions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
Skriet,
Excepter,
The Human League,
The Neon Judgement,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rites of Spring,
Jandek,
Sex Pistols,
The Seeds,
DNA,
The Cowsills,
Bootsy Collins,
Saccharine Trust,
The Leaves,
Chrome,
Bobby Womack,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Dead C,
Lee Hazlewood,
Crispy Ambulance,
Colin Newman,
Lungfish,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sam Rivers,
The Busters,
Unrelated Segments,
Deepchord,
Brass Construction,
AZ,
Rhythm & Sound,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Ice-T,
X-Ray Spex,
Marmalade,
The Standells,
Unwound,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dawn Penn,
Gang of Four,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Susan Cadogan,
Outsiders,
The Fuzztones,
The Raincoats,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Soul Sonic Force,
Porter Ricks,
The Cure,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
New York Dolls,
The J.B.'s,
Moebius,
Con Funk Shun,
Todd Terry,
The Wake,
Johnny Osbourne,
Erykah Badu,
Judy Mowatt,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.