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 Honduras and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 808 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 Magma to the dance 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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Supertramp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
The Blackbyrds,
Tres Demented,
Shuggie Otis,
Monks,
Funkadelic,
the Swans,
The Saints,
MDC,
Second Layer,
The Cowsills,
Arcadia,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jeru the Damaja,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Cheater Slicks,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Pop Group,
Wings,
Eddi Front,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gil Scott Heron,
Los Fastidios,
The Music Machine,
These Immortal Souls,
Amon Düül II,
The Seeds,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
K-Klass,
Guru Guru,
Janne Schatter,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Fluxion,
The Monochrome Set,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Stetsasonic,
the Germs,
Panda Bear,
Kerri Chandler,
David McCallum,
The Stooges,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Chrome,
Babytalk,
The Count Five,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ronnie Foster,
The Slits,
Darondo,
Subhumans,
The Velvet Underground,
Tears for Fears,
Roxette,
Hot Snakes,
Das Ding,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Golliwogs,
Rufus Thomas,
Tim Buckley,
Suburban Knight,
Boredoms,
Crash Course in Science,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.