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 El Salvador and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 theremin 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 Vladislav Delay to the crunk 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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mo-Dettes,
Sällskapet,
Symarip,
Kas Product,
David Axelrod,
Fugazi,
Dark Day,
AZ,
Ken Boothe,
Ponytail,
It's A Beautiful Day,
DJ Style,
Oblivians,
Los Fastidios,
Hashim,
June of 44,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Tommy Roe,
Silicon Teens,
Motorama,
Tomorrow,
Subhumans,
Model 500,
Slave,
Gang Gang Dance,
Joe Finger,
Young Marble Giants,
Archie Shepp,
Sixth Finger,
Warren Ellis,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Black Pus,
Lower 48,
the Human League,
Neu!,
Al Stewart,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Shuggie Otis,
The Moody Blues,
Desert Stars,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bluetip,
Porter Ricks,
Y Pants,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Technova,
Television,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Man Parrish,
These Immortal Souls,
Cal Tjader,
Harry Pussy,
The Residents,
Sight & Sound,
Blossom Toes,
Fad Gadget,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.