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 United Kingdom and from Bologna.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Heaven 17 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 The Leaves. All the underground hits.
All Von Mondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rotary Connection record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Roxy Music,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
L. Decosne,
Fat Boys,
Stereo Dub,
Glenn Branca,
Faraquet,
Deadbeat,
FM Einheit,
ABC,
Brand Nubian,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Standells,
Lightning Bolt,
Sun City Girls,
Spoonie Gee,
Lou Reed,
Mark Hollis,
Letta Mbulu,
The American Breed,
Public Enemy,
Eric Copeland,
Mars,
Dawn Penn,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Dead Boys,
The Velvet Underground,
La Düsseldorf,
Subhumans,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ten City,
Albert Ayler,
K-Klass,
Model 500,
Barrington Levy,
Lyres,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bobby Womack,
Sexual Harrassment,
X-Ray Spex,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sugar Minott,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Drexciya,
The Young Rascals,
Bobby Byrd,
The Zeros,
Gregory Isaacs,
Carl Craig,
The Monks,
Smog,
Byron Stingily,
Cluster,
Shuggie Otis,
Mr. Review,
The Pretty Things,
OOIOO,
Nik Kershaw,
Derrick May,
the Bar-Kays,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.