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 Greece and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Absolute Body Control to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra Arkestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Suicide,
Black Flag,
Vladislav Delay,
Swell Maps,
Camouflage,
Mr. Review,
Excepter,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Real Kids,
Metal Thangz,
Fela Kuti,
DJ Sneak,
Bronski Beat,
Quantec,
the Bar-Kays,
Lyres,
Wings,
Television,
Marshall Jefferson,
Panda Bear,
Marvin Gaye,
Babytalk,
Kaleidoscope,
Joey Negro,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Fat Boys,
The Modern Lovers,
Anakelly,
F. McDonald,
The New Christs,
Max Romeo,
Unwound,
June of 44,
Young Marble Giants,
Maurizio,
Joy Division,
Ken Boothe,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gang of Four,
Gregory Isaacs,
Duran Duran,
Mars,
K-Klass,
10cc,
Negative Approach,
Matthew Halsall,
Severed Heads,
Ultra Naté,
Peter and Kerry,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Scientists,
Darondo,
Cymande,
the Association,
Amon Düül II,
Sound Behaviour,
Franke,
the Normal,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Neon Judgement,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.