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 Peru and from Houston.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Nik Kershaw to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Black Sheep,
Bob Dylan,
Cymande,
Funky Four + One,
Chrome,
Bill Wells,
Gong,
Rakim,
Wolf Eyes,
Marc Almond,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
B.T. Express,
Pulsallama,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gang Gang Dance,
Faraquet,
Erykah Badu,
Motorama,
Ten City,
Carl Craig,
Q and Not U,
Shuggie Otis,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Sonics,
Adolescents,
Essential Logic,
Marmalade,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Happenings,
Cluster,
Terry Callier,
The Moody Blues,
The Seeds,
Moby Grape,
The Gap Band,
Accadde A,
Minutemen,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Selecter,
Tubeway Army,
Pole,
Lindisfarne,
Country Teasers,
The Smoke,
The Walker Brothers,
Sixth Finger,
Audionom,
Darondo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mad Mike,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Star Department,
Eli Mardock,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Harpers Bizarre,
Radiohead,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Neon Judgement,
Boz Scaggs,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Grass Roots,
Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX.
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.