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 El Salvador and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet 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 Lee Hazlewood to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
Marine Girls,
Harry Pussy,
Drexciya,
Connie Case,
Ronan,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Misunderstood,
The Birthday Party,
Dead Boys,
The Selecter,
Suburban Knight,
The Grass Roots,
Kevin Saunderson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Depeche Mode,
Derrick Morgan,
The Stooges,
Hashim,
The Last Poets,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Aswad,
Pylon,
Procol Harum,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Happenings,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mad Mike,
10cc,
Marc Almond,
The Litter,
Second Layer,
Circle Jerks,
Max Romeo,
Flash Fearless,
Make Up,
The Young Rascals,
The Golliwogs,
Gang Green,
New Order,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eve St. Jones,
Lalann,
Crime,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Fall,
Joe Smooth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bauhaus,
Alice Coltrane,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fluxion,
Lindisfarne,
Jimmy McGriff,
Vladislav Delay,
June Days,
Sandy B,
Pantaleimon,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.