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 Chile and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Public Enemy to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake 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 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 Gichy Dan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eli Mardock,
Underground Resistance,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
X-Ray Spex,
Gang Green,
Terry Callier,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
48th St. Collective,
Joy Division,
Ultravox,
Sparks,
Inner City,
Von Mondo,
Half Japanese,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
June Days,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pet Shop Boys,
Fatback Band,
Grauzone,
Magma,
The New Christs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ultimate Spinach,
H. Thieme,
Cymande,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Fugs,
Fluxion,
Faust,
Reuben Wilson,
Byron Stingily,
Accadde A,
Lungfish,
DJ Style,
Lindisfarne,
Wolf Eyes,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Dead C,
The Beau Brummels,
Roger Hodgson,
AZ,
Cluster,
Qualms,
Michelle Simonal,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eric Copeland,
Mission of Burma,
The Birthday Party,
DNA,
Tom Boy,
Subhumans,
The Moleskins,
Juan Atkins,
The Durutti Column,
Pussy Galore,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Deadbeat,
Dorothy Ashby,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Young Rascals,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Five Americans,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.