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 San Marino and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Rapeman to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy 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?
Terry Callier,
the Human League,
DJ Sneak,
The Beau Brummels,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Scion,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cymande,
48th St. Collective,
8 Eyed Spy,
Section 25,
Visage,
The Monks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Robert Hood,
Eve St. Jones,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Moleskins,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Seeds,
The Litter,
Anthony Braxton,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Vladislav Delay,
Kas Product,
June Days,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
the Association,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Chris Corsano,
The Happenings,
Rakim,
Joey Negro,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Al Stewart,
Scientists,
Kayak,
Jeff Lynne,
Sonic Youth,
Black Bananas,
Public Image Ltd.,
Erykah Badu,
Carl Craig,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Alice Coltrane,
Radio Birdman,
Janne Schatter,
The Doors,
Funky Four + One,
Desert Stars,
New Age Steppers,
The New Christs,
Scott Walker,
Cameo,
Todd Rundgren,
Davy DMX,
Flash Fearless,
Procol Harum,
Bob Dylan,
Sparks,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.