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 Czech Republic and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 güiro 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 the Slits to the crunk 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Big Daddy Kane,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Camberwell Now,
Idris Muhammad,
Kenny Larkin,
H. Thieme,
David Bowie,
Cecil Taylor,
John Coltrane,
John Cale,
Trumans Water,
the Normal,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Black Moon,
Metal Thangz,
Saccharine Trust,
Judy Mowatt,
Deakin,
The Blackbyrds,
Marmalade,
Derrick Morgan,
Cybotron,
The Residents,
The Modern Lovers,
Tres Demented,
Underground Resistance,
The Music Machine,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jeru the Damaja,
Yazoo,
Bill Near,
The United States of America,
Arab on Radar,
Skarface,
Skriet,
Quando Quango,
Robert Hood,
The Star Department,
Royal Trux,
The Mummies,
Sun Ra,
Darondo,
Hashim,
Michelle Simonal,
Eve St. Jones,
Youth Brigade,
Popol Vuh,
Maurizio,
The Vogues,
Nation of Ulysses,
Colin Newman,
Lou Christie,
Robert Görl,
Make Up,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Nils Olav,
Thee Headcoats,
Interpol,
Ultravox,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.