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 Jamaica and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the crunk 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 The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Eric Dolphy,
Sällskapet,
Public Enemy,
Duran Duran,
The Cowsills,
Minor Threat,
Nico,
The Last Poets,
Andrew Hill,
Yazoo,
Stetsasonic,
Motorama,
Altered Images,
48th St. Collective,
Bobby Sherman,
Infiniti,
The Modern Lovers,
MDC,
New Age Steppers,
Buzzcocks,
Aaron Thompson,
Anakelly,
Scientists,
Pussy Galore,
The Smoke,
Delta 5,
The Busters,
Yaz,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
World's Most,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Durutti Column,
Kurtis Blow,
The Motions,
Wolf Eyes,
Neu!,
Surgeon,
Kenny Larkin,
Sam Rivers,
The Barracudas,
Black Flag,
X-Ray Spex,
Scott Walker,
James White and The Blacks,
Freddie Wadling,
Barrington Levy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Victims,
Aural Exciters,
Lakeside,
The Names,
Amon Düül II,
Sonic Youth,
The Five Americans,
Alison Limerick,
Arcadia,
Barbara Tucker,
Underground Resistance,
Marine Girls,
The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans.
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.