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 Kuwait and from Toronto.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Black Flag to the dance 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 The Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dorothy Ashby record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
The Smoke,
Jeru the Damaja,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Soft Cell,
The Blackbyrds,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Hoover,
Michelle Simonal,
Janne Schatter,
Agitation Free,
Black Sheep,
Scrapy,
Deakin,
Darondo,
Eve St. Jones,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Radio Birdman,
Lungfish,
Rufus Thomas,
John Cale,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Royal Trux,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marmalade,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cluster,
Rites of Spring,
La Düsseldorf,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Qualms,
The Red Krayola,
Goldenarms,
Gabor Szabo,
Robert Hood,
AZ,
Skriet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Names,
Scratch Acid,
Scion,
Fear,
E-Dancer,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
L. Decosne,
The Monks,
The Martian,
David Bowie,
Clear Light,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sällskapet,
Roy Ayers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Buckinghams,
The Human League,
DJ Sneak,
Banda Bassotti,
Public Image Ltd.,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.