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 Slovakia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Delhi.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Eddi Front to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Neu! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a E-Dancer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Severed Heads,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jimmy McGriff,
Underground Resistance,
Reagan Youth,
Excepter,
Scion,
Grauzone,
Scan 7,
Althea and Donna,
Graham Central Station,
Flipper,
Eric Copeland,
Traffic Nightmare,
DJ Sneak,
Royal Trux,
John Coltrane,
Black Flag,
Sight & Sound,
Robert Hood,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Grass Roots,
The Standells,
Marc Almond,
Pierre Henry,
Unwound,
The Searchers,
Sun City Girls,
David Bowie,
Brass Construction,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Iggy Pop,
Rotary Connection,
Con Funk Shun,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Masters at Work,
The Moleskins,
The Beau Brummels,
Yellowson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Judy Mowatt,
Bob Dylan,
The Walker Brothers,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bobby Byrd,
The Flesh Eaters,
Wolf Eyes,
Reuben Wilson,
The Fall,
Symarip,
Tears for Fears,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mark Hollis,
Make Up,
Warsaw,
Peter & Gordon,
Morten Harket,
Bronski Beat,
Q65,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.