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 Lesotho and from Copenhagen.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 mellotron 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 Michelle Simonal to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
Ultravox,
Cymande,
Mad Mike,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
X-102,
Drive Like Jehu,
Khruangbin,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eve St. Jones,
Jesper Dahlback,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Seeds,
Can,
The Raincoats,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lower 48,
Janne Schatter,
Tres Demented,
The Sound,
The Electric Prunes,
Godley & Creme,
Ultra Naté,
Letta Mbulu,
Minny Pops,
Dawn Penn,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Popol Vuh,
Second Layer,
Bobby Womack,
The Names,
Technova,
Cecil Taylor,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Public Enemy,
The Last Poets,
Stockholm Monsters,
Severed Heads,
Monolake,
Kenny Larkin,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Barracudas,
Alphaville,
Groovy Waters,
Faust,
Barrington Levy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rekid,
Newcleus,
the Human League,
Heaven 17,
A Certain Ratio,
Subhumans,
Laurel Aitken,
Cameo,
World's Most,
Pylon,
Piero Umiliani,
Byron Stingily,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The United States of America,
Aaron Thompson,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.