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 Turkmenistan and from Copenhagen.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Barbara Tucker to the rock 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 The Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Gun Club,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Fortunes,
Aaron Thompson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ronan,
Soft Machine,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Carl Craig,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scott Walker,
Fugazi,
Japan,
The Remains,
Skriet,
The Smoke,
the Germs,
Bizarre Inc.,
Blancmange,
Pantytec,
Pole,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Black Pus,
Royal Trux,
Jerry's Kids,
The Trojans,
Al Stewart,
Josef K,
Nirvana,
Bobby Byrd,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ronnie Foster,
Yellowson,
Sarah Menescal,
Unwound,
Sister Nancy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Index,
Scratch Acid,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sällskapet,
Camberwell Now,
Inner City,
Das Ding,
The Monks,
Black Bananas,
Gichy Dan,
Moebius,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
John Coltrane,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bobby Sherman,
The Leaves,
Monks,
Bush Tetras,
PIL,
Stetsasonic,
Cecil Taylor,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.