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 Russia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Black Dice,
Aswad,
Maurizio,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Tubeway Army,
New Age Steppers,
T.S.O.L.,
Soft Machine,
Johnny Clarke,
Swell Maps,
Robert Görl,
John Foxx,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lou Christie,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pussy Galore,
Au Pairs,
Deepchord,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Normal,
Steve Hackett,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Funkadelic,
Little Man,
John Cale,
Morten Harket,
Scion,
The Real Kids,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Khruangbin,
The Detroit Cobras,
Todd Terry,
Bizarre Inc.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
New Order,
Mars,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gong,
Gang Gang Dance,
Crash Course in Science,
Deadbeat,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ludus,
Marc Almond,
Ronnie Foster,
Jacob Miller,
Black Pus,
The United States of America,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gerry Rafferty,
Arcadia,
The Durutti Column,
The Modern Lovers,
Quadrant,
Laurel Aitken,
Sonic Youth,
Inner City,
Circle Jerks,
The Velvet Underground,
Suicide,
Crispy Ambulance,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.