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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Donald Fagen 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 The Last Poets to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Evens. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erasure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Fluxion,
Malaria!,
Procol Harum,
KRS-One,
Maleditus Sound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wire,
Man Eating Sloth,
Drexciya,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Talk Talk,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bobby Byrd,
Duran Duran,
Basic Channel,
The Monochrome Set,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Hashim,
The Pretty Things,
Severed Heads,
Roxette,
Clear Light,
Monolake,
The Misunderstood,
Derrick Morgan,
Eli Mardock,
Jandek,
Andrew Hill,
Main Source,
John Coltrane,
The Monks,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Robert Görl,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lou Christie,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Franke,
Faust,
The Residents,
Minutemen,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Lindisfarne,
Pere Ubu,
The Kinks,
The Index,
Sarah Menescal,
The Selecter,
Panda Bear,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Funkadelic,
Donny Hathaway,
The Modern Lovers,
Dave Gahan,
Motorama,
Ken Boothe,
Suicide,
The Stooges,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.