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 Venezuela and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the theremin 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 Sunsets and Hearts to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxy Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sight & Sound,
Bang On A Can,
Max Romeo,
Flamin' Groovies,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Faust,
Barclay James Harvest,
Amon Düül II,
Rosa Yemen,
Cecil Taylor,
Blake Baxter,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Zapp,
The Dead C,
Soul II Soul,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Warsaw,
The Pretty Things,
Crash Course in Science,
This Heat,
Interpol,
The Count Five,
Barrington Levy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Cure,
Severed Heads,
Erykah Badu,
The Electric Prunes,
The Fugs,
Supertramp,
Agent Orange,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Graham Central Station,
The Blues Magoos,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Barry Ungar,
the Association,
Lee Hazlewood,
Mission of Burma,
Radio Birdman,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Tres Demented,
La Düsseldorf,
John Lydon,
Cybotron,
New Order,
The J.B.'s,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lou Christie,
The Music Machine,
James White and The Blacks,
Black Sheep,
Crispian St. Peters,
Radiohead,
Subhumans,
Minny Pops,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rufus Thomas,
Spoonie Gee,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.