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 Israel and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Philadelphia.
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 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 Holger Czukay 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 Moebius to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Standells. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Radio Birdman,
Altered Images,
48th St. Collective,
PIL,
Quantec,
Eddi Front,
Motorama,
Von Mondo,
Graham Central Station,
Ultra Naté,
Yusef Lateef,
Bang On A Can,
Sandy B,
Bill Wells,
The Angels of Light,
LL Cool J,
The Five Americans,
Radiopuhelimet,
Scratch Acid,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Little Man,
Jandek,
Mr. Review,
Bauhaus,
Fear,
Dennis Brown,
Boz Scaggs,
Marine Girls,
FM Einheit,
Massinfluence,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Arab on Radar,
The Offenders,
Ohio Players,
Crispy Ambulance,
Arthur Verocai,
Duran Duran,
Man Parrish,
New York Dolls,
Sex Pistols,
Section 25,
The Raincoats,
Dawn Penn,
Terry Callier,
Sun City Girls,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Groovy Waters,
Monks,
Quando Quango,
kango's stein massive,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Severed Heads,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Max Romeo,
Nils Olav,
The Detroit Cobras,
New Age Steppers,
The Move,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Moody Blues,
Interpol,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse.
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.