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 Cyprus and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 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 ABBA to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anthony Braxton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
Skaos,
Half Japanese,
The Seeds,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Monks,
Eden Ahbez,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Shoche,
The Gun Club,
Bauhaus,
The Flesh Eaters,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mars,
Gang Green,
Country Teasers,
Parry Music,
The Blues Magoos,
Guru Guru,
Piero Umiliani,
Pantytec,
Spoonie Gee,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Animal Collective,
Newcleus,
Reagan Youth,
Bobby Sherman,
Donald Byrd,
Gang Starr,
Royal Trux,
Minor Threat,
Drexciya,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Tremeloes,
Vladislav Delay,
Tubeway Army,
David McCallum,
Terrestrial Tones,
Anakelly,
Robert Wyatt,
Ronan,
Funkadelic,
Crime,
Black Sheep,
The Techniques,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dead Boys,
Bootsy Collins,
DJ Style,
James White and The Blacks,
Joey Negro,
Sixth Finger,
Little Man,
Dark Day,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Mojo Men,
Camouflage,
The Toasters,
Neu!,
Alphaville,
The Moody Blues,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.