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 Thailand and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 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 Man Eating Sloth to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül II 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hasil Adkins,
The Durutti Column,
Pylon,
Nation of Ulysses,
Minny Pops,
MC5,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Animal Collective,
Aural Exciters,
Graham Central Station,
Bronski Beat,
Barrington Levy,
the Swans,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Donald Byrd,
Vainqueur,
Susan Cadogan,
Absolute Body Control,
Tres Demented,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Y Pants,
Schoolly D,
Gong,
Lightning Bolt,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ossler,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Cramps,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Doors,
X-101,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bad Manners,
Model 500,
Piero Umiliani,
The Cowsills,
Rod Modell,
Eden Ahbez,
Stetsasonic,
Khruangbin,
The Associates,
a-ha,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kaleidoscope,
Roy Ayers,
Grauzone,
FM Einheit,
48th St. Collective,
Interpol,
The Beau Brummels,
cv313,
The Divine Comedy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ronnie Foster,
The Moody Blues,
The Music Machine,
The Trojans,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Buzzcocks,
Robert Wyatt,
The Selecter,
David McCallum,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.