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 Malta and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Young Rascals to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Rundgren record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Frankie Knuckles,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Symarip,
Severed Heads,
The Grass Roots,
Joy Division,
Public Enemy,
Tommy Roe,
Bluetip,
Echospace,
Rufus Thomas,
The Last Poets,
Radiohead,
Black Flag,
DNA,
The Fall,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fela Kuti,
The Moody Blues,
Sight & Sound,
Icehouse,
The Misunderstood,
Henry Cow,
David McCallum,
The Tremeloes,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Model 500,
T. Rex,
Guru Guru,
Eric Dolphy,
Buzzcocks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Johnny Clarke,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ice-T,
Scan 7,
Smog,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Normal,
Television,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Cure,
The Angels of Light,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lower 48,
Ludus,
Pantytec,
B.T. Express,
Eric Copeland,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Pretty Things,
Brothers Johnson,
Quantec,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Johnny Osbourne,
Das Ding,
Faust,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.