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 New Zealand and from Bremen.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Arthur Verocai to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Moody Blues,
The Blackbyrds,
Marc Almond,
Sällskapet,
Janne Schatter,
The Tremeloes,
Wasted Youth,
Pet Shop Boys,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Simply Red,
Moebius,
Skarface,
Eddi Front,
Slave,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bluetip,
Colin Newman,
The Real Kids,
Ice-T,
New York Dolls,
Scrapy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Hasil Adkins,
The Martian,
Rod Modell,
The Leaves,
Joey Negro,
Bob Dylan,
The Gories,
Make Up,
The Victims,
Toni Rubio,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Surgeon,
DNA,
Mo-Dettes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Das Ding,
Minny Pops,
Arab on Radar,
Au Pairs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
This Heat,
Byron Stingily,
Nico,
Interpol,
Echospace,
Sandy B,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Graham Central Station,
Visage,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lakeside,
CMW,
Khruangbin,
Blake Baxter,
Quando Quango,
The Invisible,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.