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 Macedonia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 sitar 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 Sandy B to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eurythmics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
Das Ding,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pylon,
Faust,
The Cramps,
Ossler,
Royal Trux,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nas,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Electric Light Orchestra,
John Foxx,
The Trojans,
Connie Case,
Robert Hood,
Chris & Cosey,
Suburban Knight,
Anthony Braxton,
The Blackbyrds,
cv313,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Golliwogs,
Gabor Szabo,
Electric Prunes,
Slick Rick,
Byron Stingily,
Marmalade,
Lalo Schifrin,
This Heat,
AZ,
Camouflage,
Blossom Toes,
Warsaw,
the Bar-Kays,
The Fortunes,
Joey Negro,
Monks,
Guru Guru,
The Five Americans,
Neil Young,
Mad Mike,
Fatback Band,
Can,
Cybotron,
Andrew Hill,
Boz Scaggs,
Derrick Morgan,
Kenny Larkin,
The Fuzztones,
X-101,
Wings,
Television,
Smog,
The Last Poets,
Television Personalities,
Juan Atkins,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pharoah Sanders,
Subhumans,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.