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 Nicaragua and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 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 Jacques Brel to the grime 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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All The Gories tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
Eric Copeland,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stetsasonic,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Popol Vuh,
Franke,
Don Cherry,
Kurtis Blow,
The Trojans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Judy Mowatt,
Kas Product,
Spandau Ballet,
Qualms,
Metal Thangz,
Clear Light,
Stiv Bators,
Fatback Band,
Warsaw,
Gil Scott Heron,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jawbox,
Television Personalities,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Altered Images,
The Durutti Column,
Mad Mike,
The Monks,
Section 25,
Lightning Bolt,
The Star Department,
Zero Boys,
Blancmange,
Faraquet,
Motorama,
DJ Sneak,
Mars,
Minny Pops,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Terry Callier,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bob Dylan,
Pantytec,
Flipper,
Ken Boothe,
Johnny Clarke,
Sonic Youth,
The Real Kids,
Bill Wells,
Isaac Hayes,
Glenn Branca,
The Fire Engines,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rakim,
Brick,
Bluetip,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Martian,
New Order,
The Count Five,
Henry Cow,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.