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 Vanuatu and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Lightning Bolt to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
JFA,
Bill Wells,
The Moody Blues,
Duran Duran,
Massinfluence,
Tropical Tobacco,
Television,
Excepter,
Michelle Simonal,
Nas,
Rakim,
Bang On A Can,
The Kinks,
The Durutti Column,
Marc Almond,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Derrick May,
Flipper,
Avey Tare,
Trumans Water,
D'Angelo,
Von Mondo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ultimate Spinach,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bobby Byrd,
DNA,
Reagan Youth,
Black Pus,
Tubeway Army,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Arthur Verocai,
Mr. Review,
Pole,
The Velvet Underground,
Absolute Body Control,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bush Tetras,
Depeche Mode,
Prince Buster,
Fear,
Warren Ellis,
Arab on Radar,
Stereo Dub,
Moebius,
Swell Maps,
Johnny Clarke,
Ponytail,
Agitation Free,
Popol Vuh,
Technova,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Young Marble Giants,
Average White Band,
La Düsseldorf,
Fifty Foot Hose,
LL Cool J,
K-Klass,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Aloha Tigers,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.