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 Guyana and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Delhi.
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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Lindisfarne to the punk 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 The Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Girls At Our Best! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fifty Foot Hose record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Sonics,
Rekid,
Roy Ayers,
R.M.O.,
Dennis Brown,
Rapeman,
Soul II Soul,
Derrick May,
Bill Wells,
The Gun Club,
X-Ray Spex,
Tom Boy,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Association,
Yaz,
Pagans,
Lee Hazlewood,
Prince Buster,
The Count Five,
A Certain Ratio,
Darondo,
The Blues Magoos,
The Modern Lovers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Slits,
The Black Dice,
Rosa Yemen,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pulsallama,
Sandy B,
Hashim,
Sight & Sound,
Make Up,
Young Marble Giants,
The Grass Roots,
Eric Copeland,
Guru Guru,
Rotary Connection,
The J.B.'s,
Unwound,
Wasted Youth,
Bush Tetras,
Flipper,
Matthew Bourne,
Erykah Badu,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Derrick Morgan,
The Techniques,
Royal Trux,
Patti Smith,
Quando Quango,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Trumans Water,
Cluster,
Flash Fearless,
The Alarm Clocks,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.