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 United Kingdom and from Bremen.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 harpsichord 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 Eurythmics to the jazz 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 DJ Style. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
The Buckinghams,
The Smoke,
Brick,
Newcleus,
U.S. Maple,
KRS-One,
Wasted Youth,
the Slits,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Eden Ahbez,
The New Christs,
The Seeds,
David Bowie,
Massinfluence,
The Raincoats,
Shoche,
The Moody Blues,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gichy Dan,
Tears for Fears,
R.M.O.,
Amon Düül,
The Cure,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bang On A Can,
Roy Ayers,
John Holt,
The Monochrome Set,
The Techniques,
Glambeats Corp.,
Moss Icon,
Deadbeat,
Hoover,
Oneida,
Los Fastidios,
Robert Görl,
Byron Stingily,
Mantronix,
The Remains,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cybotron,
Groovy Waters,
Quadrant,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Inner City,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ten City,
Cal Tjader,
the Bar-Kays,
The Real Kids,
Harpers Bizarre,
Robert Hood,
Altered Images,
The Fortunes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Von Mondo,
Mars,
Section 25,
Smog,
Roxette,
Monks,
Nirvana,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.