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 Denmark and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 linndrum 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 Anthony Braxton 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
The Detroit Cobras,
Harry Pussy,
Robert Görl,
Flipper,
Funkadelic,
Japan,
Organ,
Supertramp,
Stereo Dub,
The Searchers,
Visage,
Matthew Bourne,
Michelle Simonal,
Gregory Isaacs,
UT,
Alphaville,
Tom Boy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Essential Logic,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Liliput,
Brand Nubian,
The Dirtbombs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Los Fastidios,
Underground Resistance,
Vladislav Delay,
Josef K,
Wolf Eyes,
F. McDonald,
Skarface,
Porter Ricks,
Moby Grape,
Alton Ellis,
Sun City Girls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Minutemen,
Soft Machine,
Ten City,
Dave Gahan,
Traffic Nightmare,
Black Moon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Roger Hodgson,
the Fania All-Stars,
R.M.O.,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pierre Henry,
Slave,
The Modern Lovers,
Talk Talk,
Kenny Larkin,
Nik Kershaw,
Easy Going,
Ultravox,
Sonny Sharrock,
Heaven 17,
The Durutti Column,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Cure,
Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon.
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.