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 Bangladesh and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 808 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 Matthew Halsall to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Anakelly tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Human League,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Wings,
Zero Boys,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Los Fastidios,
Moebius,
Skarface,
Judy Mowatt,
Althea and Donna,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Birthday Party,
Monks,
Sight & Sound,
Sun Ra,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Moleskins,
Whodini,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Mummies,
Yazoo,
Ossler,
Leonard Cohen,
The Doobie Brothers,
Symarip,
The Black Dice,
The Selecter,
The Dead C,
Spoonie Gee,
Suburban Knight,
Alphaville,
UT,
Con Funk Shun,
Animal Collective,
Severed Heads,
Josef K,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Moody Blues,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Interpol,
Basic Channel,
Rufus Thomas,
The Residents,
The Grass Roots,
Duran Duran,
Urselle,
The Velvet Underground,
Young Marble Giants,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scratch Acid,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Reagan Youth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Girls At Our Best!,
Von Mondo,
Second Layer,
Sunsets and Hearts,
These Immortal Souls,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Kerrie Biddell,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.