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 Uruguay and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Accadde A to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Graham Central Station,
Marmalade,
Jeff Lynne,
Severed Heads,
Brass Construction,
Aloha Tigers,
In Retrospect,
Con Funk Shun,
Average White Band,
Moebius,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Barbara Tucker,
Hot Snakes,
cv313,
Peter & Gordon,
Massinfluence,
John Cale,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Amazonics,
Monolake,
Half Japanese,
F. McDonald,
Lindisfarne,
Icehouse,
The Cramps,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Accadde A,
Soft Cell,
Godley & Creme,
Mars,
Josef K,
The Black Dice,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ten City,
Pierre Henry,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marine Girls,
Cal Tjader,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Tom Boy,
Susan Cadogan,
The Sound,
Sandy B,
Bad Manners,
Metal Thangz,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
DNA,
The Blues Magoos,
Tres Demented,
Faraquet,
The Wake,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tubeway Army,
The Busters,
Dawn Penn,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.