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 Solomon Islands and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Nirvana to the crunk 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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Radio Birdman,
Scrapy,
The Dave Clark Five,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Vogues,
Inner City,
Soft Cell,
Black Flag,
Godley & Creme,
a-ha,
Average White Band,
The Monks,
Dual Sessions,
Gabor Szabo,
Symarip,
The Golliwogs,
Todd Terry,
Cheater Slicks,
Pussy Galore,
Television,
Idris Muhammad,
Dead Boys,
Vladislav Delay,
The Electric Prunes,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Scientists,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Fire Engines,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Crooked Eye,
Mad Mike,
Sandy B,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Amazonics,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Last Poets,
Popol Vuh,
Barbara Tucker,
The Saints,
Sister Nancy,
Liliput,
Intrusion,
Eden Ahbez,
Rakim,
Cal Tjader,
Bluetip,
Matthew Halsall,
Yusef Lateef,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lalann,
Unwound,
JFA,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Remains,
Porter Ricks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lou Christie,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.