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 Nicaragua and from Winnipeg.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Toronto.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Star Department to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All Derrick Morgan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Normal,
The Modern Lovers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Amon Düül,
FM Einheit,
10cc,
Black Flag,
Jacob Miller,
Sonny Sharrock,
Soft Machine,
Yazoo,
Simply Red,
Monks,
Aaron Thompson,
Audionom,
Blancmange,
Man Parrish,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Misunderstood,
The Golliwogs,
Black Sheep,
Negative Approach,
The Seeds,
MDC,
Dawn Penn,
Schoolly D,
Rufus Thomas,
Saccharine Trust,
Scientists,
Depeche Mode,
48th St. Collective,
The Standells,
Leonard Cohen,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cybotron,
The Zeros,
Mandrill,
Scott Walker,
The Leaves,
Popol Vuh,
L. Decosne,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bad Manners,
Adolescents,
ABBA,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gang Starr,
Peter & Gordon,
The Raincoats,
Stereo Dub,
The Real Kids,
Darondo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Blackbyrds,
Chrome,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Roy Ayers,
Bush Tetras,
Lungfish,
Bluetip,
Quando Quango,
The Offenders,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.