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 Marshall Islands and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Index to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Raincoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Carl Craig,
The Buckinghams,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jacob Miller,
Dark Day,
Brick,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Minor Threat,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
June Days,
Kevin Saunderson,
Todd Rundgren,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Steve Hackett,
Warsaw,
Deakin,
New York Dolls,
Cecil Taylor,
Roxette,
The Leaves,
Adolescents,
Das Ding,
Harry Pussy,
Drexciya,
The Trojans,
Marc Almond,
The Motions,
Tomorrow,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Darondo,
Scion,
Oneida,
Sight & Sound,
The Slackers,
Wally Richardson,
Flipper,
Television,
Radio Birdman,
KRS-One,
Kenny Larkin,
Radiopuhelimet,
Yazoo,
Oblivians,
LL Cool J,
Franke,
Eve St. Jones,
Donald Byrd,
Susan Cadogan,
The Move,
Bush Tetras,
Vainqueur,
the Fania All-Stars,
Toni Rubio,
Schoolly D,
Curtis Mayfield,
Icehouse,
Rosa Yemen,
Fatback Band,
The Modern Lovers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Circle Jerks,
The Associates,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.