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 Mongolia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 chamberlin 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Basic Channel. All the underground hits.
All Howard Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joey Negro record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
Donny Hathaway,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Roger Hodgson,
Jerry's Kids,
Scion,
Index,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Can,
Metal Thangz,
Gang Starr,
Althea and Donna,
Public Image Ltd.,
F. McDonald,
Tim Buckley,
The Skatalites,
Ultra Naté,
Franke,
The Invisible,
Rakim,
the Normal,
Marc Almond,
This Heat,
New York Dolls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
H. Thieme,
The Sound,
CMW,
Minny Pops,
Loose Ends,
Bobby Womack,
The Divine Comedy,
Stiv Bators,
R.M.O.,
The Names,
The Golliwogs,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ronnie Foster,
The Pretty Things,
X-Ray Spex,
Bootsy Collins,
Das Ding,
Desert Stars,
Gang of Four,
Lucky Dragons,
Minor Threat,
Peter & Gordon,
Matthew Bourne,
Pagans,
Lindisfarne,
The Toasters,
Livin' Joy,
Black Flag,
The Young Rascals,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pussy Galore,
The Dead C,
Pierre Henry,
Lyres,
Ludus,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.