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 Uganda and from Lagos.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Names. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
The Litter,
Depeche Mode,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Sonics,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fatback Band,
Bang On A Can,
David Axelrod,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Patti Smith,
Spandau Ballet,
Byron Stingily,
The Red Krayola,
Yaz,
The Kinks,
Con Funk Shun,
Cybotron,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Motions,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sexual Harrassment,
Urselle,
Pulsallama,
Smog,
Delon & Dalcan,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bill Wells,
kango's stein massive,
The Misunderstood,
Idris Muhammad,
Dark Day,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Thee Headcoats,
Hoover,
The Beau Brummels,
Rakim,
Camberwell Now,
The Invisible,
10cc,
Adolescents,
Eve St. Jones,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Barbara Tucker,
Minnie Riperton,
Ohio Players,
Franke,
Letta Mbulu,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Anakelly,
Inner City,
The Saints,
Slick Rick,
Donny Hathaway,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Funkadelic,
Goldenarms,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.