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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Television Personalities to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joensuu 1685,
Pantytec,
Inner City,
Blancmange,
Quando Quango,
Lower 48,
Alton Ellis,
World's Most,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joey Negro,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Wake,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bluetip,
Jimmy McGriff,
Y Pants,
Eurythmics,
Nils Olav,
Gabor Szabo,
Bobby Womack,
the Germs,
Babytalk,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pharoah Sanders,
Faust,
Television,
Nation of Ulysses,
Minnie Riperton,
Brand Nubian,
Bang On A Can,
This Heat,
The Music Machine,
The Busters,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Althea and Donna,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
the Soft Cell,
Gichy Dan,
Cal Tjader,
The Barracudas,
John Lydon,
John Foxx,
Visage,
Glambeats Corp.,
Agitation Free,
The Leaves,
Suicide,
The Dirtbombs,
Mad Mike,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cabaret Voltaire,
June Days,
Erykah Badu,
Minny Pops,
Joyce Sims,
Aloha Tigers,
Thompson Twins,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Marshall Jefferson,
Tomorrow,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.