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 Congo and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Magazine to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Bourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Metal Thangz,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pole,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Last Poets,
Wings,
Bronski Beat,
Bauhaus,
Mark Hollis,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Malaria!,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Hashim,
Buzzcocks,
Marc Almond,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Minnie Riperton,
The Moleskins,
Pagans,
Half Japanese,
Sixth Finger,
Joe Finger,
The Wake,
The Martian,
Ludus,
Mission of Burma,
F. McDonald,
Jacques Brel,
Icehouse,
kango's stein massive,
EPMD,
Erasure,
The Busters,
Basic Channel,
Barclay James Harvest,
James Chance & The Contortions,
FM Einheit,
Easy Going,
The Smoke,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lee Hazlewood,
Heaven 17,
Con Funk Shun,
Pantytec,
Popol Vuh,
The Smiths,
Rod Modell,
Negative Approach,
Girls At Our Best!,
Donald Byrd,
Franke,
Mars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bang On A Can,
Carl Craig,
Howard Jones,
The Searchers,
Average White Band,
Interpol,
Lou Reed,
Slick Rick,
Moebius,
Ken Boothe,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.