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 Tuvalu and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 linndrum 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 Crooked Eye to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
Mission of Burma,
Index,
Byron Stingily,
Fat Boys,
Kas Product,
The Martian,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Henry Cow,
Porter Ricks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Carl Craig,
Throbbing Gristle,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jeff Mills,
The Buckinghams,
Bob Dylan,
ABBA,
Sixth Finger,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Sonics,
Clear Light,
Marc Almond,
The Residents,
Excepter,
Siglo XX,
Agitation Free,
Maurizio,
New York Dolls,
Amon Düül II,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
John Lydon,
Aaron Thompson,
Crooked Eye,
Tears for Fears,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ronnie Foster,
Grauzone,
Ludus,
Charles Mingus,
Little Man,
Jeru the Damaja,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Busters,
Kerri Chandler,
These Immortal Souls,
La Düsseldorf,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Saints,
Flipper,
The Walker Brothers,
Quadrant,
Ornette Coleman,
Inner City,
Scientists,
Animal Collective,
Avey Tare,
Stereo Dub,
Fear,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.