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 South Sudan and from Toronto.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Cameo,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Derrick Morgan,
Arab on Radar,
The Smiths,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Kerrie Biddell,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The American Breed,
DNA,
Silicon Teens,
The Doobie Brothers,
This Heat,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Jacques Brel,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Newcleus,
Radio Birdman,
Godley & Creme,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Kenny Larkin,
Bizarre Inc.,
Television,
Ice-T,
The Evens,
The Index,
Tomorrow,
R.M.O.,
The Barracudas,
Roxy Music,
Country Teasers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Joe Finger,
Darondo,
Zapp,
Hasil Adkins,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sight & Sound,
The Young Rascals,
The Sound,
Pere Ubu,
OOIOO,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gabor Szabo,
cv313,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kayak,
the Germs,
Anthony Braxton,
Franke,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cymande,
Fugazi,
Blake Baxter,
Glambeats Corp.,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
kango's stein massive,
The Buckinghams,
The Music Machine,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.