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 Afghanistan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Trumans Water 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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Swans,
The Blues Magoos,
X-102,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Real Kids,
The Martian,
Trumans Water,
Traffic Nightmare,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gong,
Graham Central Station,
Country Teasers,
Ossler,
Goldenarms,
Neil Young,
Tim Buckley,
Lightning Bolt,
Icehouse,
Los Fastidios,
Basic Channel,
Jesper Dahlback,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Cowsills,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Angels of Light,
The Move,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Durutti Column,
Al Stewart,
Bobby Womack,
The Leaves,
Anthony Braxton,
Little Man,
a-ha,
Pylon,
D'Angelo,
Mars,
Carl Craig,
Sonny Sharrock,
Spoonie Gee,
The Remains,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Fortunes,
Jawbox,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bob Dylan,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Soft Cell,
Talk Talk,
Anakelly,
MDC,
Albert Ayler,
Archie Shepp,
The Young Rascals,
Gang Green,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.