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 Bhutan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sunsets and Hearts to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy Collins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Anthony Braxton,
Wasted Youth,
Tropical Tobacco,
Joy Division,
The Index,
Mark Hollis,
Visage,
Dead Boys,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Tears for Fears,
The Monks,
Banda Bassotti,
The Angels of Light,
Electric Prunes,
Underground Resistance,
Shoche,
Technova,
MC5,
Sam Rivers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Big Daddy Kane,
Moby Grape,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Y Pants,
The Gap Band,
The American Breed,
Slick Rick,
Siglo XX,
Ultimate Spinach,
John Coltrane,
Eric Copeland,
Hasil Adkins,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Offenders,
The Durutti Column,
the Fania All-Stars,
Excepter,
The Knickerbockers,
Donald Byrd,
Judy Mowatt,
Davy DMX,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sällskapet,
8 Eyed Spy,
D'Angelo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Camouflage,
Todd Terry,
Von Mondo,
Zero Boys,
Lalann,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Count Five,
Lower 48,
Dual Sessions,
The Standells,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.