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 Mongolia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare 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 Pussy Galore to the disco 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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delon & Dalcan 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amon Düül record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
Ultravox,
Mars,
Roxette,
Magma,
Unwound,
Little Man,
Crime,
Max Romeo,
Q and Not U,
The American Breed,
Spandau Ballet,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Walker Brothers,
Jawbox,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Infiniti,
The Cowsills,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ornette Coleman,
Archie Shepp,
Iggy Pop,
Banda Bassotti,
Crooked Eye,
Bill Wells,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Roxy Music,
Monks,
Danielle Patucci,
Porter Ricks,
Masters at Work,
Alphaville,
The Detroit Cobras,
China Crisis,
Charles Mingus,
Joensuu 1685,
Average White Band,
Godley & Creme,
Laurel Aitken,
The Buckinghams,
Sam Rivers,
Arcadia,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Dave Clark Five,
Surgeon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Whodini,
Terrestrial Tones,
Andrew Hill,
Public Enemy,
Make Up,
Rosa Yemen,
Joyce Sims,
Minutemen,
Groovy Waters,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Tremeloes,
Shoche,
Trumans Water,
Joe Finger,
La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf.
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.