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 Senegal and from Cairo.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Amon Düül to the grime 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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Anthony Braxton,
Hardrive,
Royal Trux,
Stereo Dub,
Idris Muhammad,
The Kinks,
Country Teasers,
X-101,
Yazoo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kayak,
Pagans,
Jawbox,
Pierre Henry,
Hasil Adkins,
Leonard Cohen,
Beasts of Bourbon,
John Lydon,
The Durutti Column,
Bauhaus,
Sister Nancy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lou Christie,
Gang Starr,
David Axelrod,
Yaz,
The Toasters,
Pantaleimon,
Gong,
Minny Pops,
Prince Buster,
a-ha,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bobby Womack,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Grass Roots,
Bill Wells,
The Dave Clark Five,
Yellowson,
Dennis Brown,
Pylon,
the Human League,
New Age Steppers,
Severed Heads,
June of 44,
Tres Demented,
The Gories,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Moby Grape,
Siglo XX,
L. Decosne,
The Martian,
Darondo,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Joe Smooth,
Skaos,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Television, Television, Television, Television.
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.