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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Calgary.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Gun Club to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Darondo,
Vainqueur,
Suicide,
Harry Pussy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Tubeway Army,
Sam Rivers,
Simply Red,
Sällskapet,
Wolf Eyes,
The Litter,
Reuben Wilson,
The Raincoats,
Grauzone,
The J.B.'s,
The Busters,
Pylon,
Isaac Hayes,
Radio Birdman,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
New Order,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jawbox,
Crooked Eye,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Vladislav Delay,
Supertramp,
James White and The Blacks,
Jeff Lynne,
Royal Trux,
Lee Hazlewood,
DJ Style,
Anthony Braxton,
The Doors,
Sound Behaviour,
Shoche,
Eric Dolphy,
Dawn Penn,
The Skatalites,
Jacques Brel,
Warren Ellis,
Underground Resistance,
Skarface,
Marc Almond,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Max Romeo,
Magma,
cv313,
The Black Dice,
Deadbeat,
Sarah Menescal,
Albert Ayler,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Funky Four + One,
Joe Smooth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Happenings,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Smog,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.