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 Burkina and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 synthesizer 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 Eric Copeland to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Names,
DJ Style,
Jacques Brel,
Dual Sessions,
China Crisis,
Rapeman,
The Seeds,
The Searchers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Music Machine,
The Gap Band,
Sex Pistols,
Hoover,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
a-ha,
Youth Brigade,
EPMD,
Barry Ungar,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Kinks,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Roger Hodgson,
Fat Boys,
Desert Stars,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mr. Review,
Fluxion,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Isaac Hayes,
Wasted Youth,
Bang On A Can,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rod Modell,
Livin' Joy,
X-Ray Spex,
Yazoo,
Visage,
Josef K,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Electric Prunes,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Count Five,
Tom Boy,
Schoolly D,
Ponytail,
Scion,
Davy DMX,
The Tremeloes,
Cal Tjader,
Aswad,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Spoonie Gee,
The Mummies,
Rhythm & Sound,
Nik Kershaw,
Bootsy Collins,
The Saints,
Pylon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.