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 Kiribati 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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Trumans Water to the punk 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Technova 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Easy Going,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lucky Dragons,
Symarip,
The Detroit Cobras,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Roxette,
Brass Construction,
Hardrive,
Ohio Players,
Josef K,
Wally Richardson,
Jacques Brel,
Steve Hackett,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jacob Miller,
Thompson Twins,
Excepter,
Public Enemy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Duran Duran,
Yaz,
Second Layer,
Ultra Naté,
EPMD,
Basic Channel,
Sight & Sound,
the Normal,
Bizarre Inc.,
cv313,
Mantronix,
This Heat,
Magma,
The Raincoats,
Reuben Wilson,
X-Ray Spex,
Reagan Youth,
Harry Pussy,
Maleditus Sound,
Aswad,
Cecil Taylor,
Cybotron,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Trumans Water,
Nik Kershaw,
Barry Ungar,
The Pop Group,
UT,
Anakelly,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Audionom,
Inner City,
The Red Krayola,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Black Dice,
Interpol,
Banda Bassotti,
Skarface,
Brand Nubian,
Joey Negro,
Rapeman,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.