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 Denmark and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 Stockholm and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Interpol to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eurythmics,
Magazine,
the Soft Cell,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kool Moe Dee,
Blossom Toes,
Television,
Yaz,
Lower 48,
Kenny Larkin,
Thompson Twins,
Tim Buckley,
Soulsonic Force,
The Fortunes,
Little Man,
Massinfluence,
Aswad,
Nirvana,
The Buckinghams,
Spandau Ballet,
The Modern Lovers,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
A Certain Ratio,
Godley & Creme,
Ken Boothe,
Black Moon,
The Wake,
Harry Pussy,
The Fugs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Leonard Cohen,
The Move,
Sound Behaviour,
Minor Threat,
Boogie Down Productions,
the Normal,
K-Klass,
La Düsseldorf,
Ituana,
The Dead C,
John Coltrane,
The Golliwogs,
Oneida,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lou Christie,
DJ Style,
Cabaret Voltaire,
R.M.O.,
FM Einheit,
Byron Stingily,
Scrapy,
Intrusion,
Groovy Waters,
Hardrive,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Raincoats,
Terry Callier,
Gang of Four,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.