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 Portugal and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Mandrill to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Erykah Badu,
Fat Boys,
The Dirtbombs,
The Standells,
Fugazi,
Chris Corsano,
Mantronix,
Essential Logic,
Eli Mardock,
DNA,
Monolake,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cecil Taylor,
FM Einheit,
Das Ding,
Henry Cow,
The Fall,
Jesper Dahlback,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
John Coltrane,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Fortunes,
Underground Resistance,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ultra Naté,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Malaria!,
New Order,
The Misunderstood,
The Techniques,
Liliput,
Index,
Idris Muhammad,
Alphaville,
Avey Tare,
Jeff Lynne,
Marcia Griffiths,
Warren Ellis,
Scratch Acid,
Qualms,
The Fire Engines,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Interpol,
Gong,
Porter Ricks,
Procol Harum,
Connie Case,
Goldenarms,
Gerry Rafferty,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Wire,
Suicide,
The Sound,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Carl Craig,
Sexual Harrassment,
Reagan Youth,
the Sonics,
Chrome,
Animal Collective,
Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685.
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.