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 Cameroon and from Spokane.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 808 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 Procol Harum to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Bananas,
Camouflage,
Wasted Youth,
The Gories,
Icehouse,
The Alarm Clocks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pagans,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
MDC,
The Buckinghams,
Au Pairs,
Eurythmics,
D'Angelo,
Aural Exciters,
The Grass Roots,
the Slits,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Invisible,
Simply Red,
Tubeway Army,
Nick Fraelich,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Silicon Teens,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mars,
The Sound,
Q and Not U,
Spoonie Gee,
Slave,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sixth Finger,
Marmalade,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Anakelly,
Lindisfarne,
The Litter,
The Mojo Men,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Wally Richardson,
Deepchord,
John Holt,
Quantec,
Fifty Foot Hose,
New York Dolls,
Bronski Beat,
Adolescents,
Absolute Body Control,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Parry Music,
Technova,
Lungfish,
Saccharine Trust,
Hot Snakes,
The Tremeloes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.