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 Iran and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare 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 Fat Boys to the techno 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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glambeats Corp. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Desert Stars,
Nils Olav,
Simply Red,
Chris & Cosey,
Livin' Joy,
Robert Wyatt,
Skriet,
Nick Fraelich,
The Misunderstood,
Silicon Teens,
Shuggie Otis,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Faraquet,
Man Parrish,
Alphaville,
8 Eyed Spy,
Josef K,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bobby Sherman,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mantronix,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gang Starr,
John Holt,
The Gories,
The Smoke,
Wally Richardson,
Harry Pussy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Warsaw,
Amon Düül II,
Gabor Szabo,
Smog,
The Gladiators,
The Busters,
Maleditus Sound,
Isaac Hayes,
Cybotron,
Neil Young,
Vladislav Delay,
The Beau Brummels,
Sound Behaviour,
Terrestrial Tones,
Joe Smooth,
Kas Product,
Maurizio,
Junior Murvin,
Charles Mingus,
Frankie Knuckles,
Make Up,
Sun City Girls,
Supertramp,
The Red Krayola,
Goldenarms,
Swans,
Roy Ayers,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Bar-Kays,
Bob Dylan,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.