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 Somalia and from Spokane.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Philadelphia.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 A Certain Ratio to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 rhodes and a snare 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 an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cheater Slicks,
K-Klass,
Bill Near,
Kool Moe Dee,
Excepter,
Babytalk,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Minor Threat,
Warsaw,
Grandmaster Flash,
Spoonie Gee,
Fatback Band,
Carl Craig,
8 Eyed Spy,
Con Funk Shun,
Soul Sonic Force,
Television Personalities,
La Düsseldorf,
New Order,
Roy Ayers,
Nico,
Severed Heads,
The Names,
Scratch Acid,
Average White Band,
T. Rex,
Bang On A Can,
Deakin,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Saccharine Trust,
The Associates,
T.S.O.L.,
June of 44,
Dave Gahan,
Faust,
This Heat,
The Trojans,
Mission of Burma,
The Toasters,
Juan Atkins,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
ABBA,
F. McDonald,
Pussy Galore,
Chrome,
The Moody Blues,
Gang Starr,
Wings,
Wire,
Rosa Yemen,
Black Flag,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Brothers Johnson,
The Gladiators,
Max Romeo,
Isaac Hayes,
Barrington Levy,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Buckinghams,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.