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 Tunisia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 snare 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 Traffic Nightmare to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Robert Görl. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dave Gahan 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pere Ubu,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Graham Central Station,
Monolake,
Wally Richardson,
The Names,
UT,
Donald Byrd,
Arcadia,
48th St. Collective,
Cecil Taylor,
Freddie Wadling,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Modern Lovers,
The Smoke,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lou Reed,
The Five Americans,
These Immortal Souls,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bush Tetras,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Arthur Verocai,
PIL,
Howard Jones,
The Moleskins,
the Swans,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Gories,
Pagans,
The Busters,
Blake Baxter,
Charles Mingus,
Public Image Ltd.,
Marshall Jefferson,
Black Moon,
The Fugs,
Moby Grape,
Agent Orange,
the Soft Cell,
Morten Harket,
DJ Style,
Idris Muhammad,
Gang Starr,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Y Pants,
Henry Cow,
The Saints,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Television Personalities,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scan 7,
Mars,
Gregory Isaacs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Monks,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.