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 Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Drexciya to the electroclash 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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk 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 rap 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 guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
The Red Krayola,
Trumans Water,
a-ha,
Skaos,
The Smoke,
Youth Brigade,
Sarah Menescal,
New Order,
Heaven 17,
Idris Muhammad,
Ituana,
Los Fastidios,
New Age Steppers,
Chris & Cosey,
The Moody Blues,
The Fugs,
June of 44,
Suburban Knight,
Barry Ungar,
Hoover,
Cecil Taylor,
The Saints,
Eve St. Jones,
The Sound,
Roxy Music,
The Zeros,
Organ,
Sex Pistols,
Newcleus,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Barracudas,
Alphaville,
The Pop Group,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tubeway Army,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The New Christs,
Morten Harket,
Suicide,
John Holt,
Yellowson,
Radio Birdman,
Minutemen,
The Misunderstood,
Pagans,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Soft Machine,
Scientists,
the Normal,
Clear Light,
Terry Callier,
Guru Guru,
Connie Case,
Ornette Coleman,
The Angels of Light,
Maleditus Sound,
Icehouse,
Brothers Johnson,
Angry Samoans,
Bronski Beat,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.