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 Benin and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 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 Chris Corsano to the grunge 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Second Layer,
Interpol,
T. Rex,
Khruangbin,
Kevin Saunderson,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bob Dylan,
Girls At Our Best!,
EPMD,
Fluxion,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Soft Cell,
Ultravox,
The Young Rascals,
Oblivians,
The Remains,
Can,
The Searchers,
Agent Orange,
Das Ding,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ralphi Rosario,
Flipper,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Infiniti,
The Techniques,
Monolake,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Dual Sessions,
Fad Gadget,
Pagans,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sex Pistols,
Fatback Band,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Godley & Creme,
MDC,
Dorothy Ashby,
Aswad,
Anakelly,
The Black Dice,
Japan,
Bauhaus,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Walker Brothers,
The Standells,
Ken Boothe,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
DNA,
Audionom,
Wings,
Popol Vuh,
R.M.O.,
Mo-Dettes,
Ultra Naté,
ABC,
Eden Ahbez,
Mr. Review,
Rod Modell,
Main Source,
Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts.
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.