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 Uganda and from Woodstock.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Main Source,
Minor Threat,
Wings,
Susan Cadogan,
The Fortunes,
Faraquet,
The Star Department,
Gang Starr,
Monks,
Man Parrish,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Byron Stingily,
Malaria!,
Sixth Finger,
Thompson Twins,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Names,
Metal Thangz,
Yaz,
Sparks,
Godley & Creme,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Cowsills,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Leonard Cohen,
Alice Coltrane,
Subhumans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Oblivians,
The Five Americans,
Arcadia,
In Retrospect,
T. Rex,
Bronski Beat,
Joe Finger,
Peter and Kerry,
Michelle Simonal,
Nation of Ulysses,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ultra Naté,
China Crisis,
Agitation Free,
Donald Byrd,
June Days,
Moss Icon,
Jeff Mills,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Cameo,
Lebanon Hanover,
June of 44,
Anakelly,
Oneida,
The Kinks,
Mo-Dettes,
Easy Going,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Association,
the Slits,
Depeche Mode,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.