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 Dominica and from Beijing.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Terrestrial Tones to the jazz 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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Clear Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Bobby Womack,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fugazi,
Fela Kuti,
Deepchord,
Loose Ends,
Lou Reed,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Slick Rick,
The Fugs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Minutemen,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Knickerbockers,
Albert Ayler,
Niagra,
Wasted Youth,
Terrestrial Tones,
Black Sheep,
Swans,
The Durutti Column,
Procol Harum,
The American Breed,
Lightning Bolt,
Lungfish,
Monks,
Sugar Minott,
Cal Tjader,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pantaleimon,
Mantronix,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eurythmics,
Public Enemy,
Babytalk,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Golliwogs,
Crime,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Funky Four + One,
Zero Boys,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Main Source,
EPMD,
Index,
Neil Young,
Dead Boys,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Evens,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Crooked Eye,
Matthew Bourne,
Fear,
Tubeway Army,
Delta 5,
The Fall,
Nick Fraelich,
Glenn Branca,
Ornette Coleman,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.