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 Bahrain and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Gang Gang Dance 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 The Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Au Pairs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
The United States of America,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
David McCallum,
Barrington Levy,
Oblivians,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Alarm Clocks,
MDC,
Sandy B,
The Skatalites,
Unwound,
Banda Bassotti,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bush Tetras,
The Barracudas,
Minor Threat,
The Monks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Bar-Kays,
Bob Dylan,
Youth Brigade,
John Holt,
the Fania All-Stars,
Shoche,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Shuggie Otis,
Albert Ayler,
Stockholm Monsters,
Brick,
Boogie Down Productions,
Black Pus,
Heaven 17,
Rosa Yemen,
the Normal,
The Dead C,
Robert Hood,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Icehouse,
Funky Four + One,
The Cowsills,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sun Ra,
Black Moon,
Eve St. Jones,
Massinfluence,
New York Dolls,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Echospace,
Malaria!,
China Crisis,
Warsaw,
Wings,
Peter & Gordon,
DJ Sneak,
Ronnie Foster,
The Move,
The Beau Brummels,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.