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 Papua New Guinea 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba 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 Dead Boys to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Cheater Slicks,
Nico,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sonny Sharrock,
Shoche,
Ken Boothe,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Seeds,
Hoover,
The Mummies,
The Human League,
10cc,
Organ,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eve St. Jones,
Audionom,
Tropical Tobacco,
Minnie Riperton,
Barry Ungar,
Yazoo,
Ludus,
Mo-Dettes,
Henry Cow,
The Evens,
Ralphi Rosario,
Delon & Dalcan,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Brothers Johnson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Soulsonic Force,
Harry Pussy,
F. McDonald,
Sight & Sound,
Pere Ubu,
Harmonia,
Ituana,
Crispian St. Peters,
Panda Bear,
Patti Smith,
The Leaves,
Danielle Patucci,
Joy Division,
The Neon Judgement,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
U.S. Maple,
Black Bananas,
Peter and Kerry,
Nirvana,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Marc Almond,
Basic Channel,
KRS-One,
Jeru the Damaja,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.