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 New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Amazonics to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Carl Craig,
The Human League,
Aural Exciters,
Brothers Johnson,
Arcadia,
Idris Muhammad,
Pussy Galore,
Marvin Gaye,
Cybotron,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lou Christie,
Whodini,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Evens,
The Walker Brothers,
Derrick Morgan,
Fluxion,
Ponytail,
The Cowsills,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Livin' Joy,
Gang Starr,
The Black Dice,
Ultravox,
Deadbeat,
The Blackbyrds,
The Birthday Party,
Amon Düül,
The Offenders,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lower 48,
Shoche,
Avey Tare,
Roxette,
LL Cool J,
Pole,
cv313,
James White and The Blacks,
Zero Boys,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Big Daddy Kane,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Clear Light,
Bob Dylan,
The Cure,
The United States of America,
Nico,
Wire,
Vladislav Delay,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Faust,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Stereo Dub,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sarah Menescal,
Lungfish,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.