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 Poland and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 marimba 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 Joy Division to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Drexciya,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Todd Terry,
Fugazi,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lyres,
Kayak,
Sun City Girls,
Altered Images,
Bootsy Collins,
AZ,
Joensuu 1685,
ABC,
X-101,
Ponytail,
Inner City,
Excepter,
Au Pairs,
Gastr Del Sol,
Agitation Free,
Underground Resistance,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Animal Collective,
Morten Harket,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Neil Young,
Thompson Twins,
The Gladiators,
The Durutti Column,
Traffic Nightmare,
Boredoms,
Faust,
Eric Copeland,
Rod Modell,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Roxy Music,
Supertramp,
Suicide,
The Detroit Cobras,
Black Sheep,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Unrelated Segments,
Graham Central Station,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Iggy Pop,
Carl Craig,
The Residents,
Todd Rundgren,
Vladislav Delay,
Lakeside,
Shoche,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Barry Ungar,
Ultravox,
The Fall,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Make Up,
Bauhaus,
Robert Wyatt,
Moss Icon,
The Last Poets,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.