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 Lithuania and from New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the snare 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 Section 25 to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Susan Cadogan,
Max Romeo,
T. Rex,
Lakeside,
Bill Near,
Kayak,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Star Department,
X-102,
Little Man,
JFA,
EPMD,
Chris Corsano,
Electric Prunes,
Isaac Hayes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
In Retrospect,
The Sound,
The Young Rascals,
Alison Limerick,
Organ,
Pussy Galore,
Ultimate Spinach,
John Holt,
The Electric Prunes,
the Soft Cell,
The Count Five,
Amazonics,
Cal Tjader,
Bluetip,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Dorothy Ashby,
Motorama,
The Gladiators,
Visage,
Byron Stingily,
Shoche,
Arab on Radar,
Moby Grape,
Index,
Josef K,
ABC,
Aaron Thompson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Popol Vuh,
Cameo,
Patti Smith,
Barbara Tucker,
Crime,
Matthew Bourne,
Alton Ellis,
the Fania All-Stars,
Vladislav Delay,
Todd Terry,
Chrome,
Tres Demented,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Vainqueur,
Depeche Mode,
Rakim,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.