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 Saudi Arabia and from Shanghai.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the theremin 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 Y Pants to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rufus Thomas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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?
Buzzcocks,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Seeds,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Maleditus Sound,
The Cure,
Colin Newman,
Agent Orange,
Grauzone,
Isaac Hayes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bush Tetras,
Urselle,
Underground Resistance,
Infiniti,
June Days,
Rufus Thomas,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Golliwogs,
Joe Finger,
Lindisfarne,
Kenny Larkin,
Bad Manners,
Barclay James Harvest,
Anakelly,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Knickerbockers,
Cameo,
The Searchers,
The Names,
Qualms,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Camouflage,
Nik Kershaw,
Scott Walker,
Severed Heads,
Tim Buckley,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Adolescents,
Roger Hodgson,
Radio Birdman,
Tears for Fears,
The Kinks,
Cecil Taylor,
Bizarre Inc.,
Saccharine Trust,
D'Angelo,
Gregory Isaacs,
Robert Hood,
Bauhaus,
Juan Atkins,
The Standells,
Shuggie Otis,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Velvet Underground,
Althea and Donna,
Thompson Twins,
Stereo Dub,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.