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 Gabon and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gang Starr to the punk 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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Mark Hollis,
Wire,
The Vogues,
Ultravox,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Alice Coltrane,
Deadbeat,
Todd Rundgren,
Los Fastidios,
Howard Jones,
James White and The Blacks,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Pere Ubu,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Infiniti,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Talk Talk,
Letta Mbulu,
The Electric Prunes,
Tres Demented,
Hot Snakes,
Yazoo,
La Düsseldorf,
Neil Young,
Cymande,
Quantec,
Marc Almond,
Motorama,
Shoche,
Ten City,
Angry Samoans,
Zapp,
Mr. Review,
Newcleus,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Q65,
The Mummies,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ornette Coleman,
Hashim,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Man Eating Sloth,
Saccharine Trust,
Lou Reed,
Surgeon,
Television,
Kaleidoscope,
KRS-One,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Intrusion,
Mars,
Qualms,
Rhythm & Sound,
Grauzone,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Pretty Things,
Steve Hackett,
Arab on Radar,
Popol Vuh,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.