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 Belgium and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 theremin 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 Glambeats Corp. to the dance 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 Scrapy. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Reuben Wilson,
the Germs,
Vainqueur,
Morten Harket,
Popol Vuh,
Albert Ayler,
Con Funk Shun,
Groovy Waters,
The Birthday Party,
Tropical Tobacco,
Magma,
Sixth Finger,
Fugazi,
Royal Trux,
Unrelated Segments,
a-ha,
Grauzone,
La Düsseldorf,
Ken Boothe,
The United States of America,
Tim Buckley,
The Move,
Pylon,
Loose Ends,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bill Near,
Camouflage,
Television,
The Residents,
Youth Brigade,
In Retrospect,
Yazoo,
Vladislav Delay,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Searchers,
Angry Samoans,
Archie Shepp,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Stooges,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Man Eating Sloth,
KRS-One,
The Leaves,
Alton Ellis,
DNA,
Depeche Mode,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Section 25,
Funkadelic,
the Normal,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Mission of Burma,
Ronnie Foster,
Trumans Water,
The Doors,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Thee Headcoats,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Grass Roots,
The Star Department,
A Certain Ratio,
LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J.
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.