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 Honduras and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 David Bowie 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 Lou Reed. All the underground hits.
All 10cc tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Kerri Chandler,
U.S. Maple,
The Slits,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lakeside,
Rapeman,
DJ Sneak,
The Angels of Light,
Sight & Sound,
Boredoms,
Bobby Womack,
Delta 5,
Soul II Soul,
Pierre Henry,
Roger Hodgson,
Brass Construction,
Wire,
Boz Scaggs,
The Golliwogs,
Smog,
Vladislav Delay,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sandy B,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ultimate Spinach,
John Foxx,
Eric Dolphy,
Monks,
New Order,
Sexual Harrassment,
Glenn Branca,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Robert Wyatt,
Radiohead,
Bush Tetras,
The Leaves,
The Cure,
Mr. Review,
Erykah Badu,
the Slits,
E-Dancer,
Joensuu 1685,
Echospace,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Suicide,
Lalann,
Von Mondo,
New Age Steppers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Tom Boy,
Chris & Cosey,
Minor Threat,
Excepter,
Arthur Verocai,
The Neon Judgement,
Matthew Bourne,
Moss Icon,
Guru Guru,
Alton Ellis,
Minnie Riperton,
Letta Mbulu,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.