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 Turkmenistan and from Calgary.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Blake Baxter to the punk 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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Ken Boothe,
Todd Terry,
Sarah Menescal,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fatback Band,
Ten City,
Minutemen,
The Evens,
Lou Reed,
The Tremeloes,
Inner City,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bad Manners,
Lower 48,
Simply Red,
Judy Mowatt,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jesper Dahlback,
Erykah Badu,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Circle Jerks,
The Moody Blues,
Thee Headcoats,
Scientists,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Velvet Underground,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Human League,
Popol Vuh,
Talk Talk,
Tears for Fears,
Maleditus Sound,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lungfish,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Boredoms,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Magazine,
Big Daddy Kane,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bronski Beat,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Remains,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rapeman,
Skriet,
Basic Channel,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Star Department,
Nico,
Marmalade,
Max Romeo,
Average White Band,
Robert Görl,
Suburban Knight,
Depeche Mode,
Magma,
Monolake,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.