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 Belize and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Black Flag to the electroclash 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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Eurythmics,
Section 25,
The Moleskins,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Selecter,
Swans,
Ludus,
The Sound,
The Grass Roots,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Saccharine Trust,
Brand Nubian,
Andrew Hill,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Masters at Work,
Minor Threat,
Pet Shop Boys,
Neil Young,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Tommy Roe,
Ten City,
Alton Ellis,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Barrington Levy,
Joy Division,
Amon Düül,
Suicide,
The Monochrome Set,
Henry Cow,
Freddie Wadling,
Tubeway Army,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pere Ubu,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Derrick May,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Wolf Eyes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sällskapet,
The Dirtbombs,
Agent Orange,
Joyce Sims,
Mr. Review,
Sight & Sound,
The Mummies,
Main Source,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Yusef Lateef,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Count Five,
Lower 48,
Byron Stingily,
Pierre Henry,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.