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 Mozambique and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 snare 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the techno 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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers Ubiquity record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Black Dice,
The Toasters,
One Last Wish,
Porter Ricks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Aswad,
The New Christs,
Man Eating Sloth,
Maurizio,
Al Stewart,
Pagans,
Lebanon Hanover,
Andrew Hill,
Tim Buckley,
The Doors,
Ultimate Spinach,
Q65,
X-101,
Moss Icon,
David Bowie,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Franke,
Anakelly,
Ornette Coleman,
Warsaw,
Hoover,
David Axelrod,
Letta Mbulu,
The Martian,
Avey Tare,
Bauhaus,
The Moody Blues,
The Walker Brothers,
Steve Hackett,
The Leaves,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Smoke,
The Names,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ken Boothe,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Smog,
Magma,
Danielle Patucci,
The Tremeloes,
The Mummies,
Sandy B,
A Certain Ratio,
Warren Ellis,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Pole,
Average White Band,
Supertramp,
Alice Coltrane,
Rakim,
Reagan Youth,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.