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 Indonesia and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun City Girls,
Archie Shepp,
The Evens,
Jeff Mills,
Chrome,
T. Rex,
Black Sheep,
Bizarre Inc.,
Aswad,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Panda Bear,
Bang On A Can,
Max Romeo,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Wire,
The Searchers,
Stereo Dub,
Jesper Dahlback,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gabor Szabo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jacob Miller,
Ponytail,
Electric Prunes,
The Gun Club,
Man Parrish,
Interpol,
The Fortunes,
Roxette,
Deepchord,
Shoche,
Godley & Creme,
Dawn Penn,
the Normal,
UT,
Marc Almond,
Pagans,
Todd Terry,
La Düsseldorf,
the Slits,
The Monks,
Ornette Coleman,
Half Japanese,
Mad Mike,
The Cowsills,
Funkadelic,
The Moleskins,
Roxy Music,
Ralphi Rosario,
Depeche Mode,
The Smiths,
Pet Shop Boys,
Eli Mardock,
Steve Hackett,
a-ha,
Reagan Youth,
Sonny Sharrock,
Animal Collective,
Rakim,
Girls At Our Best!,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.