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 Belize and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
DNA,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Zapp,
Aswad,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Pretty Things,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Young Marble Giants,
Heaven 17,
Isaac Hayes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Oblivians,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
DJ Sneak,
Cal Tjader,
Altered Images,
Cybotron,
Jacob Miller,
Average White Band,
Henry Cow,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
La Düsseldorf,
MDC,
Unwound,
Suicide,
David McCallum,
the Soft Cell,
Audionom,
Kaleidoscope,
The Skatalites,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Last Poets,
Aloha Tigers,
Ludus,
Lightning Bolt,
Bang On A Can,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Searchers,
China Crisis,
Hardrive,
Soft Cell,
the Fania All-Stars,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mars,
Traffic Nightmare,
Chrome,
The Remains,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Names,
John Lydon,
Blancmange,
Rekid,
Matthew Halsall,
Jacques Brel,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Brothers Johnson,
Jeff Lynne,
Sparks,
Ornette Coleman,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.