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 Nicaragua and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Black Dice to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe 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 808 and a rhodes 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 organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
The American Breed,
Lou Reed,
The Raincoats,
Pussy Galore,
Los Fastidios,
The Associates,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scrapy,
Glenn Branca,
Surgeon,
Neil Young,
cv313,
T. Rex,
T.S.O.L.,
Sarah Menescal,
Eric B and Rakim,
Todd Terry,
The Wake,
Khruangbin,
Roxette,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Erasure,
Ossler,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Gap Band,
David Axelrod,
Theoretical Girls,
a-ha,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sight & Sound,
Marc Almond,
Sunsets and Hearts,
FM Einheit,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Doobie Brothers,
Maurizio,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Althea and Donna,
This Heat,
The Red Krayola,
The Doors,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Electric Prunes,
Drexciya,
Crime,
Cheater Slicks,
Soulsonic Force,
Ponytail,
The Zeros,
Second Layer,
Peter and Kerry,
Massinfluence,
The Moody Blues,
Byron Stingily,
Hasil Adkins,
John Foxx,
PIL,
Ornette Coleman,
Josef K,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.