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 Nicaragua and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 It's A Beautiful Day to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ultra Naté,
Drexciya,
Tom Boy,
Section 25,
Neu!,
48th St. Collective,
Index,
Gichy Dan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
K-Klass,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Q65,
The Move,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kaleidoscope,
Simply Red,
Outsiders,
Grauzone,
Erasure,
The Remains,
the Bar-Kays,
Black Pus,
Ken Boothe,
Aaron Thompson,
Bill Wells,
Swans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Fugs,
Au Pairs,
Loose Ends,
Brass Construction,
Gang Starr,
The Monks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Donny Hathaway,
The Kinks,
Main Source,
June Days,
Lungfish,
The Red Krayola,
MC5,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Soft Cell,
Model 500,
The Techniques,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Monolake,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Gories,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Selecter,
In Retrospect,
Ice-T,
Moby Grape,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Marc Almond,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Velvet Underground,
The Skatalites,
Big Daddy Kane,
Livin' Joy,
Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players.
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.