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 Australia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lyon.
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 guitar 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 Tropical Tobacco to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Organ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Moby Grape,
Fatback Band,
a-ha,
Dorothy Ashby,
Mantronix,
Marmalade,
ABBA,
Darondo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Last Poets,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ralphi Rosario,
Pantaleimon,
The Gories,
The Offenders,
Freddie Wadling,
Althea and Donna,
Groovy Waters,
June of 44,
Ludus,
Steve Hackett,
Fad Gadget,
Gichy Dan,
Thee Headcoats,
Skarface,
Rosa Yemen,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Harry Pussy,
The Invisible,
Brothers Johnson,
The Searchers,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Kenny Larkin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Dennis Brown,
Ken Boothe,
the Bar-Kays,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Underground Resistance,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mo-Dettes,
Ronnie Foster,
Jacques Brel,
Howard Jones,
Angry Samoans,
Tubeway Army,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Blues Magoos,
Joyce Sims,
Blancmange,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Guru Guru,
Scion,
The Star Department,
The Flesh Eaters,
Radiohead,
Arthur Verocai,
X-102,
The Skatalites,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.