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 Montenegro and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 guitar 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 Delta 5 to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Smoke. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erasure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Susan Cadogan,
Lyres,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Dirtbombs,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sight & Sound,
Frankie Knuckles,
Junior Murvin,
Amon Düül,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Slackers,
EPMD,
Duran Duran,
John Coltrane,
Malaria!,
Carl Craig,
the Swans,
Bad Manners,
Stetsasonic,
Donny Hathaway,
Hoover,
The New Christs,
Easy Going,
The Birthday Party,
Kerri Chandler,
Toni Rubio,
The Remains,
The Moleskins,
Fatback Band,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Names,
The Knickerbockers,
Sparks,
The Smoke,
Black Moon,
Terry Callier,
Jeru the Damaja,
David Axelrod,
Black Pus,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Monolake,
The Toasters,
the Association,
Oblivians,
The Cosmic Jokers,
LL Cool J,
The Skatalites,
Maleditus Sound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Joyce Sims,
Desert Stars,
Negative Approach,
Kenny Larkin,
Stiv Bators,
Robert Hood,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Heaven 17,
The Walker Brothers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Brass Construction,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.