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 Ivory Coast and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Tropical Tobacco to the techno 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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiohead record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Index,
Idris Muhammad,
Hardrive,
Japan,
Symarip,
Funky Four + One,
Eurythmics,
The Last Poets,
Pylon,
DNA,
Model 500,
The Smiths,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Unrelated Segments,
Drexciya,
Erasure,
Morten Harket,
The Monks,
The Grass Roots,
Eddi Front,
Mary Jane Girls,
Matthew Bourne,
John Lydon,
Junior Murvin,
The Knickerbockers,
The Gap Band,
Vladislav Delay,
X-102,
the Soft Cell,
Harmonia,
The J.B.'s,
Arcadia,
Carl Craig,
Alice Coltrane,
The Flesh Eaters,
Absolute Body Control,
Henry Cow,
John Foxx,
Ponytail,
ABBA,
Altered Images,
Gang of Four,
The Walker Brothers,
The Seeds,
Anakelly,
Slick Rick,
Magazine,
The Human League,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Music Machine,
The Dirtbombs,
Glenn Branca,
The Litter,
Marine Girls,
The Fuzztones,
Matthew Halsall,
John Cale,
Ornette Coleman,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.