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 Tanzania and from Delhi.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Skaos to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Joensuu 1685. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Second Layer,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Infiniti,
Mandrill,
Suburban Knight,
Barbara Tucker,
Rakim,
Lou Reed,
Susan Cadogan,
The Pretty Things,
Flipper,
The Pop Group,
The Walker Brothers,
The Gap Band,
Joe Smooth,
The Gladiators,
Magma,
Gerry Rafferty,
Shoche,
The Offenders,
Bill Near,
Sugar Minott,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Oblivians,
The Index,
Man Parrish,
the Soft Cell,
Unwound,
Yellowson,
Neu!,
Amon Düül,
John Cale,
Jimmy McGriff,
Procol Harum,
Brick,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Brass Construction,
Throbbing Gristle,
Isaac Hayes,
China Crisis,
John Coltrane,
Radio Birdman,
Curtis Mayfield,
Spandau Ballet,
Niagra,
The Buckinghams,
Intrusion,
Anthony Braxton,
The Evens,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jeff Lynne,
Maurizio,
Sonic Youth,
Judy Mowatt,
Bobby Sherman,
The Angels of Light,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Byron Stingily,
Idris Muhammad,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.