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 Kyrgyzstan and from Lagos.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 guitar 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 Heaven 17 to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Vogues. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June Days record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
the Fania All-Stars,
Radiohead,
Gil Scott Heron,
Babytalk,
The Gun Club,
Ultravox,
Cluster,
EPMD,
DJ Sneak,
Black Bananas,
Smog,
Flash Fearless,
The Black Dice,
Brothers Johnson,
The Leaves,
JFA,
Rosa Yemen,
Roxette,
The New Christs,
World's Most,
Scientists,
Carl Craig,
The Angels of Light,
The Wake,
The Music Machine,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Aloha Tigers,
Agitation Free,
The Slits,
Circle Jerks,
Pantaleimon,
Gang Gang Dance,
Nico,
Banda Bassotti,
Eve St. Jones,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cybotron,
Boredoms,
Soul Sonic Force,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Make Up,
The Motions,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
Black Sheep,
Stiv Bators,
Ronnie Foster,
E-Dancer,
Deakin,
Curtis Mayfield,
Procol Harum,
Sonic Youth,
Simply Red,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Grey Daturas,
Pussy Galore,
Average White Band,
Bobby Byrd,
The Detroit Cobras,
The American Breed,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.