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 South Africa and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Hot Snakes to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
Skriet,
Surgeon,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sex Pistols,
The Cure,
Index,
X-Ray Spex,
Underground Resistance,
Goldenarms,
Archie Shepp,
Circle Jerks,
Moss Icon,
David Bowie,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Maurizio,
Roxy Music,
The Techniques,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Livin' Joy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
F. McDonald,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Average White Band,
Warsaw,
The Golliwogs,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
B.T. Express,
Joy Division,
Carl Craig,
Gregory Isaacs,
Stereo Dub,
Marvin Gaye,
Animal Collective,
The Human League,
Aloha Tigers,
Mr. Review,
Deadbeat,
Mars,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Deakin,
Josef K,
The Monochrome Set,
Khruangbin,
World's Most,
The Searchers,
Chris & Cosey,
Peter and Kerry,
Zero Boys,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Raincoats,
Public Enemy,
Gang of Four,
The Red Krayola,
Marine Girls,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.