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 Kosovo and from Salvador.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the oboe 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats 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 an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Certain Ratio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Joe & The Fish,
Chris & Cosey,
The Flesh Eaters,
Audionom,
The Saints,
Pole,
Outsiders,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sam Rivers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lebanon Hanover,
Heaven 17,
Intrusion,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Dual Sessions,
Royal Trux,
The Standells,
Tears for Fears,
Loose Ends,
The Music Machine,
Amazonics,
The Associates,
Ronnie Foster,
Visage,
The Divine Comedy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Be Bop Deluxe,
B.T. Express,
Second Layer,
Vainqueur,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Last Poets,
U.S. Maple,
Janne Schatter,
Black Bananas,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Man Eating Sloth,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sonny Sharrock,
Zero Boys,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sparks,
Au Pairs,
The Wake,
Livin' Joy,
Kas Product,
Joe Finger,
Das Ding,
The Moleskins,
Nick Fraelich,
Wolf Eyes,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
John Holt,
the Human League,
Scan 7,
The Tremeloes,
Mad Mike,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Henry Cow,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.