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 Palau and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the rhodes 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 dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yusef Lateef record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Dennis Brown,
X-101,
Gang Starr,
The American Breed,
Arcadia,
Ten City,
Wasted Youth,
Todd Rundgren,
Pulsallama,
Bootsy Collins,
D'Angelo,
Kaleidoscope,
The Gladiators,
Roxette,
Visage,
Masters at Work,
Skarface,
Pylon,
JFA,
Tim Buckley,
The Selecter,
Severed Heads,
Kayak,
Ice-T,
Wolf Eyes,
June Days,
The Names,
Black Moon,
Scott Walker,
Alice Coltrane,
Aloha Tigers,
The Last Poets,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Toni Rubio,
Warsaw,
Stockholm Monsters,
DJ Sneak,
Jandek,
Sugar Minott,
Hashim,
One Last Wish,
Babytalk,
The Gories,
Jeff Mills,
New Age Steppers,
The Pretty Things,
Bobby Byrd,
New Order,
H. Thieme,
Quando Quango,
Mission of Burma,
Harry Pussy,
The Smoke,
Nation of Ulysses,
Reuben Wilson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sixth Finger,
Essential Logic,
Suicide,
Neu!,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.