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 St Lucia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 chamberlin 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 Motorama to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
Blake Baxter,
New Age Steppers,
The American Breed,
Clear Light,
Man Eating Sloth,
Isaac Hayes,
Grey Daturas,
The Trojans,
Swell Maps,
H. Thieme,
Sugar Minott,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sun City Girls,
Wasted Youth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Model 500,
Bobby Womack,
Sight & Sound,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Television,
Trumans Water,
Jerry's Kids,
Depeche Mode,
The Smoke,
Hasil Adkins,
Freddie Wadling,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Blackbyrds,
Sam Rivers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bauhaus,
The Cramps,
One Last Wish,
Technova,
Theoretical Girls,
Black Moon,
Slick Rick,
Kurtis Blow,
The Divine Comedy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tubeway Army,
Eden Ahbez,
Bush Tetras,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sex Pistols,
Brick,
Blossom Toes,
Absolute Body Control,
Funkadelic,
Michelle Simonal,
Severed Heads,
Urselle,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
David Axelrod,
Mantronix,
Crooked Eye,
Arab on Radar,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.