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 St Kitts & Nevis 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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Sugar Minott to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Sällskapet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole 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?
EPMD,
Rufus Thomas,
Maurizio,
The Real Kids,
Anthony Braxton,
T. Rex,
The Slits,
Robert Görl,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
T.S.O.L.,
Saccharine Trust,
the Slits,
Mars,
Oneida,
Scratch Acid,
Gregory Isaacs,
Avey Tare,
Joy Division,
David Bowie,
Pantytec,
June of 44,
Charles Mingus,
The Fugs,
Cymande,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Soft Machine,
The Tremeloes,
Y Pants,
Eve St. Jones,
Toni Rubio,
Outsiders,
Eddi Front,
Cybotron,
The Wake,
Barbara Tucker,
Pole,
Gang of Four,
The Gun Club,
Lucky Dragons,
Faraquet,
Soul II Soul,
Khruangbin,
Bobbi Humphrey,
JFA,
Jeff Mills,
Max Romeo,
Intrusion,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Fuzztones,
Dark Day,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Velvet Underground,
The Birthday Party,
Metal Thangz,
Crooked Eye,
Drexciya,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Peter and Kerry,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sandy B,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.