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 Moldova and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Gap Band to the crunk 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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron 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?
Pulsallama,
Soft Machine,
the Germs,
Bobby Sherman,
Rapeman,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Echospace,
Flipper,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Neon Judgement,
The Real Kids,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Roxette,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Blues Magoos,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rites of Spring,
The Modern Lovers,
Jacob Miller,
Robert Hood,
The Last Poets,
Rod Modell,
Von Mondo,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Agitation Free,
Don Cherry,
Eurythmics,
Gang of Four,
Fluxion,
Swell Maps,
Bob Dylan,
L. Decosne,
Sonic Youth,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Slick Rick,
Aloha Tigers,
Scientists,
Joyce Sims,
Harmonia,
Maleditus Sound,
Suicide,
Derrick May,
Anthony Braxton,
Kayak,
Reuben Wilson,
Arthur Verocai,
Faraquet,
This Heat,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Robert Görl,
The Blackbyrds,
The Fortunes,
Erykah Badu,
The Kinks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Names,
Todd Terry,
Drive Like Jehu,
Matthew Halsall,
Infiniti,
Crime,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.