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 Israel and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 harpsichord 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 Radio Birdman to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Pylon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Althea and Donna record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ice-T,
Amon Düül II,
Chris & Cosey,
Scrapy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gang of Four,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Blancmange,
Subhumans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Erasure,
Pet Shop Boys,
E-Dancer,
Newcleus,
Circle Jerks,
PIL,
Sexual Harrassment,
New York Dolls,
the Soft Cell,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Laurel Aitken,
Boogie Down Productions,
Funky Four + One,
Kerri Chandler,
The Knickerbockers,
ABC,
Slick Rick,
Index,
The New Christs,
Donald Byrd,
Black Sheep,
Glambeats Corp.,
Animal Collective,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Mad Mike,
Dorothy Ashby,
X-101,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
John Foxx,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Moody Blues,
Faust,
Drive Like Jehu,
Skaos,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Zapp,
Marc Almond,
The Leaves,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Modern Lovers,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fatback Band,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Harry Pussy,
Sixth Finger,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.