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 United Kingdom and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Philadelphia.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Sonic Youth to the punk 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 Sound. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Magazine,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Moody Blues,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Audionom,
Davy DMX,
Maleditus Sound,
The J.B.'s,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bush Tetras,
Hashim,
Cybotron,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ultra Naté,
Patti Smith,
Ralphi Rosario,
the Fania All-Stars,
Qualms,
Aswad,
Joy Division,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Scientists,
The Happenings,
Monolake,
The Fall,
X-Ray Spex,
Eve St. Jones,
Deakin,
Marc Almond,
The Offenders,
The Searchers,
Television,
Crime,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Godley & Creme,
Sixth Finger,
In Retrospect,
Theoretical Girls,
Jeff Lynne,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Scion,
Pole,
Babytalk,
The Stooges,
Todd Terry,
The Smiths,
Buzzcocks,
Juan Atkins,
the Soft Cell,
Black Moon,
The Dead C,
Lebanon Hanover,
Peter and Kerry,
Depeche Mode,
Deepchord,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bang On A Can,
the Human League,
Wolf Eyes,
Sonny Sharrock,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.