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 Stockholm.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Lebanon Hanover to the rock 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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Godley & Creme,
David Bowie,
The Standells,
Freddie Wadling,
The Monks,
Swans,
JFA,
The Offenders,
Steve Hackett,
The Trojans,
A Certain Ratio,
London Community Gospel Choir,
June of 44,
Kenny Larkin,
Lightning Bolt,
Donny Hathaway,
Anthony Braxton,
One Last Wish,
The Misunderstood,
Excepter,
The Toasters,
The Alarm Clocks,
New Order,
Royal Trux,
Todd Rundgren,
Pantaleimon,
Hot Snakes,
Pylon,
Ultravox,
Jesper Dahlback,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Oneida,
Deakin,
Hashim,
Make Up,
Sex Pistols,
Cecil Taylor,
Can,
The Dave Clark Five,
Albert Ayler,
Gang Green,
Scratch Acid,
Cal Tjader,
Public Enemy,
The Gap Band,
Cymande,
The Cramps,
Tommy Roe,
Dark Day,
Camberwell Now,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sun City Girls,
Grey Daturas,
Monks,
Khruangbin,
The Busters,
The Mighty Diamonds,
MC5, MC5, MC5, MC5.
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.