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 Haiti and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Banda Bassotti to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
Girls At Our Best!,
Terry Callier,
Icehouse,
Guru Guru,
Max Romeo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Public Enemy,
Soulsonic Force,
Animal Collective,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ohio Players,
Fela Kuti,
Sonic Youth,
Young Marble Giants,
World's Most,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Drexciya,
Sandy B,
Urselle,
The Invisible,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eric Dolphy,
Cybotron,
Roxette,
June Days,
Smog,
Spandau Ballet,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Saccharine Trust,
Amazonics,
H. Thieme,
Japan,
Radio Birdman,
Kenny Larkin,
Black Moon,
Maleditus Sound,
Sam Rivers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Flipper,
Terrestrial Tones,
Blancmange,
New York Dolls,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gichy Dan,
The Move,
The Durutti Column,
The United States of America,
Hasil Adkins,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Grey Daturas,
Pylon,
Rakim,
Carl Craig,
Roger Hodgson,
Isaac Hayes,
Wolf Eyes,
Toni Rubio,
La Düsseldorf,
Joe Finger,
Easy Going,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.