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 El Salvador and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sight & Sound to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Shadows of Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Max Romeo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Peter and Kerry,
Theoretical Girls,
Vainqueur,
Malaria!,
Patti Smith,
Angry Samoans,
Jeff Lynne,
Cluster,
Arthur Verocai,
the Germs,
Fear,
Eric Copeland,
B.T. Express,
The Standells,
Warren Ellis,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Banda Bassotti,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ultravox,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
A Certain Ratio,
Freddie Wadling,
The Kinks,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Parry Music,
Nick Fraelich,
Ice-T,
Ituana,
Swans,
Barbara Tucker,
Con Funk Shun,
Pantaleimon,
The Angels of Light,
Eddi Front,
Essential Logic,
The Grass Roots,
Popol Vuh,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Mojo Men,
Simply Red,
Reagan Youth,
Quantec,
Alphaville,
The Invisible,
Arab on Radar,
Hasil Adkins,
Chris Corsano,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Heaven 17,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Last Poets,
Cybotron,
Faraquet,
Sparks,
Franke,
U.S. Maple,
Lyres,
The Gladiators,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.