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 Malawi and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Vogues,
Althea and Donna,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Searchers,
David Bowie,
Neil Young,
The Cure,
Franke,
Avey Tare,
Alton Ellis,
Urselle,
Mandrill,
Swell Maps,
Black Bananas,
Second Layer,
Juan Atkins,
Stereo Dub,
Soft Machine,
Ludus,
The Dave Clark Five,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Derrick Morgan,
Harry Pussy,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ten City,
The Last Poets,
Public Enemy,
Susan Cadogan,
Terry Callier,
Thompson Twins,
Kayak,
Chris & Cosey,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Associates,
K-Klass,
Blancmange,
Black Pus,
Patti Smith,
Barbara Tucker,
Lungfish,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lee Hazlewood,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Stooges,
Kas Product,
Kool Moe Dee,
Guru Guru,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Donald Byrd,
Nico,
Bizarre Inc.,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ken Boothe,
Sixth Finger,
Pylon,
Al Stewart,
Swans,
X-Ray Spex,
Kenny Larkin,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.