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 Cape Verde and from Mumbai.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 organ 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 Amon Düül II to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harpers Bizarre 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Bauhaus,
kango's stein massive,
John Foxx,
The Dead C,
Dark Day,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rakim,
Nirvana,
Quando Quango,
Scan 7,
Kurtis Blow,
Visage,
The Last Poets,
Patti Smith,
The Birthday Party,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gang Green,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Desert Stars,
Lungfish,
Erasure,
Delta 5,
OOIOO,
Idris Muhammad,
Subhumans,
The Buckinghams,
Electric Prunes,
Wings,
The Index,
Skaos,
Pantaleimon,
Procol Harum,
Stereo Dub,
Au Pairs,
Reuben Wilson,
Moebius,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
David Bowie,
World's Most,
Matthew Bourne,
Charles Mingus,
Carl Craig,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gil Scott Heron,
One Last Wish,
Cheater Slicks,
Moss Icon,
Sun City Girls,
A Certain Ratio,
The Monochrome Set,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Alphaville,
Mission of Burma,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marc Almond,
Monolake,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wasted Youth,
Sugar Minott,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.