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 Monaco and from Hong Kong.
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 Beijing and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Don Cherry to the rap 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 Heaven 17. All the underground hits.
All Flipper tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Connie Case,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sun City Girls,
Bronski Beat,
The Litter,
Althea and Donna,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Monks,
Niagra,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Second Layer,
Slick Rick,
The Tremeloes,
Jawbox,
Dawn Penn,
Barbara Tucker,
The J.B.'s,
The Neon Judgement,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Make Up,
Banda Bassotti,
Archie Shepp,
Mandrill,
Desert Stars,
Scientists,
The Stooges,
Anakelly,
Ronan,
Livin' Joy,
Nation of Ulysses,
Soul II Soul,
Black Bananas,
Cheater Slicks,
Main Source,
Funky Four + One,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sugar Minott,
Easy Going,
Hasil Adkins,
Qualms,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Parry Music,
The Techniques,
Jandek,
Avey Tare,
Circle Jerks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Symarip,
John Coltrane,
The Walker Brothers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ornette Coleman,
The Fuzztones,
Fear,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Freddie Wadling,
Infiniti,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.