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 Cameroon and from Lyon.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Popol Vuh to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deakin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Harry Pussy,
The American Breed,
Marine Girls,
The Litter,
Tears for Fears,
Barclay James Harvest,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
John Foxx,
Albert Ayler,
Chrome,
the Swans,
The Last Poets,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nik Kershaw,
Nick Fraelich,
Cybotron,
Avey Tare,
Junior Murvin,
Byron Stingily,
The Monochrome Set,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Evens,
Lungfish,
Yaz,
Infiniti,
Bronski Beat,
Dark Day,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eddi Front,
Niagra,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Massinfluence,
Johnny Osbourne,
Brothers Johnson,
Con Funk Shun,
Yusef Lateef,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Detroit Cobras,
Soft Machine,
The United States of America,
Bobby Byrd,
Von Mondo,
Peter & Gordon,
Magazine,
Ultimate Spinach,
Funky Four + One,
Joyce Sims,
Royal Trux,
Ken Boothe,
Bauhaus,
R.M.O.,
the Human League,
The Mummies,
Archie Shepp,
Morten Harket,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
China Crisis,
The Skatalites,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.