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 Turkmenistan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eric B and Rakim to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All Faust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lower 48,
Thompson Twins,
The Human League,
Nick Fraelich,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
UT,
Blancmange,
Black Bananas,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Alice Coltrane,
Hoover,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mars,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Trojans,
Public Enemy,
Cheater Slicks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
E-Dancer,
Tom Boy,
the Soft Cell,
Deepchord,
Sexual Harrassment,
Albert Ayler,
The Cowsills,
Arcadia,
Mr. Review,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kenny Larkin,
T. Rex,
Lee Hazlewood,
Scrapy,
Sam Rivers,
The Motions,
Marmalade,
Fad Gadget,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Evens,
June Days,
Idris Muhammad,
Average White Band,
Lalann,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scott Walker,
Ossler,
Agitation Free,
B.T. Express,
A Flock of Seagulls,
John Holt,
Shuggie Otis,
Procol Harum,
The Selecter,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ten City,
Franke,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gastr Del Sol,
Moby Grape,
The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men.
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.