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 Kazakhstan and from Edmonton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 arpeggiator 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 Rosa Yemen to the grime 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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Radiopuhelimet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Don Cherry,
Tears for Fears,
Television,
Au Pairs,
Wire,
The Gun Club,
Rapeman,
Wolf Eyes,
K-Klass,
Pierre Henry,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Q65,
The Grass Roots,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The United States of America,
The Sonics,
Yusef Lateef,
Fear,
Scion,
Easy Going,
Minor Threat,
Bad Manners,
Ken Boothe,
Japan,
Crash Course in Science,
The Slackers,
JFA,
Amon Düül II,
Shoche,
Fugazi,
Thompson Twins,
Procol Harum,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Average White Band,
Soft Cell,
Michelle Simonal,
Trumans Water,
Simply Red,
Nick Fraelich,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Heaven 17,
Sällskapet,
Glenn Branca,
Barclay James Harvest,
Marc Almond,
T. Rex,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Gories,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Cowsills,
Deadbeat,
The Count Five,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lou Reed,
The Mummies,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Avey Tare,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.