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 Mongolia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 CMW to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
The Litter,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Barracudas,
Ossler,
Lee Hazlewood,
Morten Harket,
Rakim,
Ronnie Foster,
Basic Channel,
Organ,
Slick Rick,
Sex Pistols,
Brand Nubian,
Peter & Gordon,
Deepchord,
Althea and Donna,
Mr. Review,
Easy Going,
Wings,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pole,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Japan,
Marmalade,
Desert Stars,
Schoolly D,
Sexual Harrassment,
Das Ding,
Warren Ellis,
Jeff Lynne,
Barry Ungar,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Donny Hathaway,
June of 44,
Big Daddy Kane,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scott Walker,
Bluetip,
Drexciya,
Barbara Tucker,
Newcleus,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Blake Baxter,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Make Up,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Buckinghams,
These Immortal Souls,
Y Pants,
the Normal,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Radio Birdman,
The Birthday Party,
Au Pairs,
Harpers Bizarre,
Curtis Mayfield,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.