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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 sitar 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Stiv Bators,
Tomorrow,
Kerrie Biddell,
Skarface,
The Tremeloes,
Rod Modell,
Anakelly,
Minny Pops,
Chris & Cosey,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Cowsills,
Sound Behaviour,
The Alarm Clocks,
The J.B.'s,
Sandy B,
Ituana,
Robert Wyatt,
The Dirtbombs,
The Last Poets,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Soul Sonic Force,
Patti Smith,
the Swans,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sparks,
The Stooges,
Charles Mingus,
Nation of Ulysses,
Metal Thangz,
Bush Tetras,
Outsiders,
Quando Quango,
The Fugs,
Suicide,
Sister Nancy,
Youth Brigade,
Joe Smooth,
Bronski Beat,
Moebius,
Television,
Kurtis Blow,
John Foxx,
New Order,
Fela Kuti,
Andrew Hill,
OOIOO,
Parry Music,
Little Man,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lou Reed,
Juan Atkins,
The Cramps,
Slick Rick,
Sarah Menescal,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Crime,
Mantronix,
Howard Jones,
The Associates,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ossler,
Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck.
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.