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 Tajikistan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Buckinghams to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Axelrod record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skarface,
The Monochrome Set,
Gong,
DNA,
Letta Mbulu,
Gang of Four,
China Crisis,
Lalann,
Suburban Knight,
Frankie Knuckles,
Excepter,
The Red Krayola,
Eric B and Rakim,
Alphaville,
Don Cherry,
Isaac Hayes,
Procol Harum,
Laurel Aitken,
F. McDonald,
Hot Snakes,
The Cure,
John Coltrane,
T. Rex,
Swell Maps,
Oneida,
Nik Kershaw,
Franke,
The Blues Magoos,
Accadde A,
The Shadows of Knight,
Graham Central Station,
Shuggie Otis,
One Last Wish,
Sixth Finger,
Amon Düül,
Rekid,
Slave,
The Cowsills,
Whodini,
Jerry's Kids,
The New Christs,
Mo-Dettes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
X-102,
Bronski Beat,
Kaleidoscope,
The Buckinghams,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eli Mardock,
Moby Grape,
Wings,
Harry Pussy,
the Slits,
In Retrospect,
Alice Coltrane,
Roxy Music,
Inner City,
Stetsasonic,
Half Japanese,
Loose Ends,
Pagans,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Model 500,
Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters.
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.