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 United States and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Monks to the grime 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 Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Association record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television,
The Gap Band,
Severed Heads,
Royal Trux,
Adolescents,
Delon & Dalcan,
Pierre Henry,
Lower 48,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ralphi Rosario,
Porter Ricks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Moon,
Jeff Mills,
Model 500,
a-ha,
Nico,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Quando Quango,
Dawn Penn,
Sight & Sound,
Dennis Brown,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sun Ra,
Arthur Verocai,
Dead Boys,
Blossom Toes,
Subhumans,
Wasted Youth,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Vainqueur,
Nirvana,
Patti Smith,
Clear Light,
Rekid,
Kevin Saunderson,
FM Einheit,
Faraquet,
Rosa Yemen,
Sex Pistols,
Tommy Roe,
The Seeds,
Harpers Bizarre,
Glenn Branca,
Smog,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gang of Four,
Colin Newman,
Monolake,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sandy B,
Hasil Adkins,
Deepchord,
Tropical Tobacco,
Stetsasonic,
Delta 5,
Marvin Gaye,
The Saints,
Malaria!,
Jesper Dahlback,
Public Enemy,
The Human League,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.