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 Pakistan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
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 H. Thieme to the electroclash 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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt 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 clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Angels of Light,
Gang Gang Dance,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ultravox,
Jeff Mills,
Parry Music,
48th St. Collective,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
X-Ray Spex,
8 Eyed Spy,
Skaos,
Suburban Knight,
Nik Kershaw,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
MDC,
Marvin Gaye,
Jesper Dahlback,
Eric Dolphy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Duran Duran,
The Pop Group,
Yazoo,
kango's stein massive,
Warren Ellis,
Mandrill,
The American Breed,
Reuben Wilson,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Siglo XX,
Bootsy Collins,
Cameo,
Magazine,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Max Romeo,
Leonard Cohen,
The Gap Band,
Babytalk,
Bronski Beat,
Radio Birdman,
A Certain Ratio,
Pole,
Susan Cadogan,
Eddi Front,
Aural Exciters,
Ornette Coleman,
Black Moon,
Malaria!,
Joe Finger,
The Music Machine,
Dark Day,
Can,
Scion,
Q and Not U,
Metal Thangz,
The Barracudas,
Black Bananas,
Howard Jones,
Franke,
Echospace,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes.
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.