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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Tokyo.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the dance 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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Masters at Work,
Ornette Coleman,
Malaria!,
Goldenarms,
Soft Cell,
The Raincoats,
Pussy Galore,
Section 25,
Rosa Yemen,
Oblivians,
Bob Dylan,
Porter Ricks,
Gerry Rafferty,
U.S. Maple,
Lou Christie,
Underground Resistance,
FM Einheit,
Delta 5,
Sly & The Family Stone,
kango's stein massive,
Nick Fraelich,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scientists,
Sällskapet,
Youth Brigade,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Mad Mike,
Big Daddy Kane,
Unwound,
Toni Rubio,
Bush Tetras,
Spoonie Gee,
Panda Bear,
The Detroit Cobras,
Dave Gahan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Popol Vuh,
The Black Dice,
Parry Music,
Erykah Badu,
The Index,
The New Christs,
June Days,
Audionom,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bronski Beat,
The Zeros,
Maurizio,
The Last Poets,
Josef K,
Interpol,
Fela Kuti,
Vladislav Delay,
Monolake,
Erasure,
Ralphi Rosario,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Freddie Wadling,
The Busters,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.