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 Romania and from Madrid.
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 Taipei and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 David Bowie to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Patti Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yazoo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Cybotron,
Pantaleimon,
Marc Almond,
The Index,
Davy DMX,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gastr Del Sol,
Symarip,
Ice-T,
Derrick Morgan,
Freddie Wadling,
Radio Birdman,
Graham Central Station,
Peter & Gordon,
The Blues Magoos,
ABBA,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Man Parrish,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Slits,
Fear,
Banda Bassotti,
La Düsseldorf,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Human League,
DJ Sneak,
Groovy Waters,
The Electric Prunes,
The Kinks,
Angry Samoans,
The Birthday Party,
The Real Kids,
David Bowie,
Ten City,
Gil Scott Heron,
Quantec,
Robert Hood,
Metal Thangz,
Porter Ricks,
Dave Gahan,
the Germs,
Black Sheep,
Depeche Mode,
Liliput,
Tom Boy,
Radiohead,
The Red Krayola,
H. Thieme,
The Monks,
Interpol,
Donny Hathaway,
The Stooges,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
James White and The Blacks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Animal Collective,
Rakim,
Young Marble Giants,
The Offenders,
Japan,
John Lydon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.