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 Philippines and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 oboe 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
John Holt,
The Saints,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ultra Naté,
Black Moon,
The Happenings,
Delta 5,
Make Up,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Motorama,
Alison Limerick,
kango's stein massive,
Das Ding,
Man Eating Sloth,
Moss Icon,
Donald Byrd,
Jesper Dahlback,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Can,
Gang of Four,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Traffic Nightmare,
Derrick May,
Joe Finger,
Babytalk,
Bobby Womack,
Von Mondo,
Nick Fraelich,
Andrew Hill,
Tommy Roe,
Young Marble Giants,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lightning Bolt,
Desert Stars,
Lakeside,
Unrelated Segments,
The Wake,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jeff Lynne,
The Fuzztones,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pussy Galore,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Walker Brothers,
The Sonics,
Joe Smooth,
Jeff Mills,
Pagans,
Aural Exciters,
Quantec,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tubeway Army,
Scion,
MDC,
The J.B.'s,
Radiohead,
The Busters,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.