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 Germany and from Seoul.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lagos.
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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Dead C to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
EPMD,
Eve St. Jones,
Roger Hodgson,
Alice Coltrane,
Niagra,
Supertramp,
Lyres,
Livin' Joy,
Bobby Byrd,
Parry Music,
James White and The Blacks,
Ponytail,
Marmalade,
Pierre Henry,
Adolescents,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Human League,
The J.B.'s,
Sex Pistols,
T. Rex,
Max Romeo,
Underground Resistance,
The Cure,
Eric Dolphy,
Skriet,
Deakin,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Saccharine Trust,
Absolute Body Control,
Essential Logic,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Donny Hathaway,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Fugs,
Kaleidoscope,
Wings,
The American Breed,
Joensuu 1685,
Lucky Dragons,
Agitation Free,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Urselle,
Soft Cell,
Iggy Pop,
The Searchers,
Marine Girls,
Tommy Roe,
Barclay James Harvest,
Youth Brigade,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Nils Olav,
Pantytec,
Mo-Dettes,
Public Enemy,
Blossom Toes,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The New Christs,
ABC,
Bang On A Can,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.