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 San Marino and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Philadelphia.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Arcadia to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Flipper tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Groovy Waters,
Supertramp,
Liliput,
Buzzcocks,
The Gun Club,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bobby Byrd,
The Birthday Party,
The Walker Brothers,
Half Japanese,
Terry Callier,
the Germs,
Sandy B,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Public Enemy,
Royal Trux,
Heaven 17,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eric Dolphy,
Television,
Henry Cow,
Gang Starr,
Robert Wyatt,
Erasure,
Wire,
Crooked Eye,
Main Source,
Unrelated Segments,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Gories,
Idris Muhammad,
The Smoke,
Rotary Connection,
Hot Snakes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
David McCallum,
Arthur Verocai,
John Lydon,
Amazonics,
Roxy Music,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Motorama,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nation of Ulysses,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sex Pistols,
Ludus,
Quadrant,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mo-Dettes,
8 Eyed Spy,
Letta Mbulu,
Vladislav Delay,
Yaz,
Inner City,
The Stooges,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.