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 Somalia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Jakarta and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Crispy Ambulance to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Visage. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
The American Breed,
The Gories,
Slick Rick,
Sam Rivers,
Dark Day,
Matthew Bourne,
The Fuzztones,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Organ,
The Seeds,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ultravox,
China Crisis,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
L. Decosne,
Vainqueur,
Jandek,
T.S.O.L.,
Icehouse,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sexual Harrassment,
E-Dancer,
Gang Starr,
Jerry's Kids,
Tom Boy,
Wasted Youth,
AZ,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Siglo XX,
Sandy B,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kas Product,
Niagra,
The Fire Engines,
Scott Walker,
Metal Thangz,
Minny Pops,
Magazine,
Massinfluence,
Radiopuhelimet,
Depeche Mode,
JFA,
Janne Schatter,
Cluster,
The Star Department,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ossler,
The Buckinghams,
Eric Dolphy,
Japan,
The Dirtbombs,
the Normal,
Ice-T,
Soulsonic Force,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Index,
Nation of Ulysses,
Godley & Creme,
X-102,
Roy Ayers,
Eddi Front,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.