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 Malaysia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 güiro 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 Rekid to the jazz 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Aloha Tigers,
Josef K,
Rites of Spring,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Chrome,
Shuggie Otis,
The Buckinghams,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jacques Brel,
Lightning Bolt,
Leonard Cohen,
Carl Craig,
Barclay James Harvest,
Angry Samoans,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lyres,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ludus,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Donald Byrd,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Drive Like Jehu,
Reuben Wilson,
Ronnie Foster,
Rod Modell,
Archie Shepp,
Chris & Cosey,
Arab on Radar,
The Names,
Organ,
Barry Ungar,
Tubeway Army,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Groovy Waters,
Faraquet,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Royal Trux,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rekid,
Terry Callier,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Can,
One Last Wish,
Pylon,
Nation of Ulysses,
Davy DMX,
Desert Stars,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mars,
Janne Schatter,
The Birthday Party,
Cluster,
Gichy Dan,
H. Thieme,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bill Wells,
Magma,
Erykah Badu,
Joe Smooth,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.