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 Panama and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Young Rascals 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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Outsiders,
Jeru the Damaja,
Deakin,
The Cowsills,
The Searchers,
The Blackbyrds,
The Saints,
Radio Birdman,
The Martian,
The Fortunes,
Leonard Cohen,
Make Up,
Joensuu 1685,
Television Personalities,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Fuzztones,
Gabor Szabo,
Arthur Verocai,
Swans,
The Busters,
The Mojo Men,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Cure,
The Moody Blues,
Blancmange,
Brand Nubian,
Sex Pistols,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Barry Ungar,
Cheater Slicks,
The Slits,
These Immortal Souls,
Kerrie Biddell,
Harmonia,
The Happenings,
Ultravox,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cecil Taylor,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Spandau Ballet,
Soul Sonic Force,
Blake Baxter,
The Birthday Party,
Big Daddy Kane,
Danielle Patucci,
Jeff Mills,
Neil Young,
The Standells,
The Dave Clark Five,
Arcadia,
Marine Girls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Theoretical Girls,
Public Enemy,
The Last Poets,
Gang Green,
Scion,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lightning Bolt,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.