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 Sudan and from Hong Kong.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bang On A Can to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Dual Sessions. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sex Pistols,
Scrapy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cluster,
Pagans,
Au Pairs,
The Angels of Light,
the Sonics,
The Names,
B.T. Express,
Jeru the Damaja,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Monolake,
Main Source,
Josef K,
Scratch Acid,
Graham Central Station,
Saccharine Trust,
Pylon,
The Selecter,
The Red Krayola,
Deakin,
Bush Tetras,
Pharoah Sanders,
Barclay James Harvest,
Black Bananas,
The Pop Group,
Drexciya,
Chris Corsano,
Jacob Miller,
Basic Channel,
The Trojans,
Matthew Bourne,
Gang Starr,
Byron Stingily,
Connie Case,
Cal Tjader,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Joensuu 1685,
Robert Görl,
Swell Maps,
Barbara Tucker,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tears for Fears,
The Velvet Underground,
Tomorrow,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Fall,
Pantaleimon,
Mr. Review,
Heaven 17,
kango's stein massive,
Girls At Our Best!,
Can,
Archie Shepp,
The Cure,
Gabor Szabo,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Zapp,
Sonic Youth,
Nick Fraelich,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.