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 Solomon Islands and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 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 The Black Dice to the funk 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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blackbyrds,
Con Funk Shun,
Lyres,
Jimmy McGriff,
Swell Maps,
Black Pus,
Ossler,
Depeche Mode,
Bluetip,
The Gories,
Patti Smith,
The Victims,
Jeff Lynne,
Half Japanese,
Piero Umiliani,
Charles Mingus,
Peter and Kerry,
Yaz,
Lindisfarne,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Parry Music,
Crash Course in Science,
Ten City,
Livin' Joy,
X-Ray Spex,
Rites of Spring,
The Names,
Make Up,
Chrome,
Yusef Lateef,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Fela Kuti,
kango's stein massive,
Scrapy,
Ken Boothe,
ABBA,
Harry Pussy,
Scion,
Underground Resistance,
Hashim,
David Bowie,
The Dirtbombs,
The Barracudas,
Tom Boy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bizarre Inc.,
Roxette,
Freddie Wadling,
Monolake,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Agent Orange,
Wings,
Rakim,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Smiths,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
48th St. Collective,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Essential Logic,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.