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 Mali and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Black Dice to the crunk 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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All World's Most tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Near,
The Durutti Column,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Crispian St. Peters,
Loose Ends,
The Leaves,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Grey Daturas,
World's Most,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Wings,
Gang Green,
The Cramps,
Bob Dylan,
The Standells,
Bobby Sherman,
The Wake,
Main Source,
Peter and Kerry,
Agent Orange,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
the Germs,
Jeru the Damaja,
Warsaw,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bluetip,
The Invisible,
Moby Grape,
Yazoo,
The Remains,
Index,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
D'Angelo,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Alice Coltrane,
L. Decosne,
The Martian,
Brick,
The Fortunes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Thee Headcoats,
John Foxx,
JFA,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Smog,
Deakin,
The Happenings,
The Dirtbombs,
Skaos,
Marine Girls,
Crooked Eye,
The Red Krayola,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lalann,
Nils Olav,
Scrapy,
David Axelrod,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Slits,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.