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 Germany and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Angry Samoans to the techno 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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All AZ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 spring reverb 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 chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Henry Cow,
Black Pus,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lebanon Hanover,
Index,
Bob Dylan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Index,
Wolf Eyes,
Nico,
The Doors,
Reuben Wilson,
Erykah Badu,
Moby Grape,
U.S. Maple,
Brass Construction,
Steve Hackett,
Lightning Bolt,
Cal Tjader,
Prince Buster,
The Monochrome Set,
D'Angelo,
Goldenarms,
Drexciya,
Saccharine Trust,
The Sonics,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Aswad,
Joe Finger,
Joensuu 1685,
The Detroit Cobras,
Yellowson,
The Last Poets,
Ultimate Spinach,
UT,
The Knickerbockers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Malaria!,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Peter & Gordon,
Harry Pussy,
Brand Nubian,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wire,
Niagra,
Pylon,
Soft Machine,
The Fuzztones,
the Association,
Susan Cadogan,
Robert Görl,
Loose Ends,
Youth Brigade,
Fad Gadget,
Carl Craig,
The Moleskins,
The Pretty Things,
The Flesh Eaters,
Warren Ellis,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Hashim,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.