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 Papua New Guinea and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Accadde A to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Arcadia,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Aswad,
Grey Daturas,
Lou Reed,
Newcleus,
Bobby Sherman,
Frankie Knuckles,
DNA,
10cc,
Fatback Band,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Smog,
Amazonics,
Reagan Youth,
Kurtis Blow,
Gil Scott Heron,
Procol Harum,
Kerri Chandler,
Bluetip,
The Fuzztones,
U.S. Maple,
Sonic Youth,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gang of Four,
The Tremeloes,
A Certain Ratio,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
James White and The Blacks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Flesh Eaters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Oblivians,
Connie Case,
Michelle Simonal,
Outsiders,
Desert Stars,
Q65,
Max Romeo,
The Gladiators,
Model 500,
E-Dancer,
Thompson Twins,
Erykah Badu,
Donny Hathaway,
The Raincoats,
Juan Atkins,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ten City,
Basic Channel,
Arthur Verocai,
Magazine,
Camberwell Now,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.