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 Nepal and from Lyon.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Move to the techno 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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
China Crisis,
Bauhaus,
Jeru the Damaja,
Niagra,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Circle Jerks,
Warren Ellis,
Pet Shop Boys,
Anakelly,
The Doobie Brothers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tomorrow,
The Trojans,
Jeff Mills,
Reuben Wilson,
Icehouse,
Index,
The Sound,
Rufus Thomas,
Fad Gadget,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Fela Kuti,
AZ,
Bobby Sherman,
The Zeros,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Soft Cell,
Jawbox,
Livin' Joy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
H. Thieme,
Althea and Donna,
The Velvet Underground,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bang On A Can,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Main Source,
Toni Rubio,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bush Tetras,
Lucky Dragons,
The Leaves,
Reagan Youth,
Suburban Knight,
Stockholm Monsters,
Drive Like Jehu,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Arthur Verocai,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Henry Cow,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Robert Görl,
Donny Hathaway,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Shadows of Knight,
Harpers Bizarre,
Anthony Braxton,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.