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 Guyana and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 synthesizer 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 The Human League to the dance 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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fuzztones 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a L. Decosne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Stiv Bators,
Anthony Braxton,
Tears for Fears,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Dark Day,
Public Enemy,
The Dead C,
Maurizio,
Leonard Cohen,
Sun Ra,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bootsy Collins,
Neu!,
Delta 5,
The Blues Magoos,
John Cale,
the Slits,
Fatback Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Pretty Things,
Drive Like Jehu,
Blancmange,
Todd Rundgren,
Bizarre Inc.,
Roxy Music,
Ronan,
Bush Tetras,
The Fire Engines,
Rod Modell,
Fat Boys,
Dawn Penn,
The Happenings,
Popol Vuh,
Sparks,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Mummies,
Mad Mike,
Wally Richardson,
Mark Hollis,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Josef K,
Royal Trux,
Tropical Tobacco,
Angry Samoans,
John Lydon,
Donny Hathaway,
Rufus Thomas,
F. McDonald,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Smoke,
Fort Wilson Riot,
D'Angelo,
Marmalade,
Pere Ubu,
Procol Harum,
Au Pairs,
Jeff Lynne,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.