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 Sudan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 chamberlin 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
CMW,
Soulsonic Force,
Albert Ayler,
Sun City Girls,
The Cowsills,
Letta Mbulu,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Sheep,
Kaleidoscope,
The Detroit Cobras,
Drexciya,
The United States of America,
Pantaleimon,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Toasters,
Nico,
Hardrive,
Terry Callier,
The Angels of Light,
Danielle Patucci,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Barrington Levy,
Whodini,
Bill Wells,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Blues Magoos,
the Swans,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Crooked Eye,
Cheater Slicks,
Accadde A,
Robert Görl,
Swans,
Aaron Thompson,
Au Pairs,
Essential Logic,
Depeche Mode,
Underground Resistance,
Delta 5,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lucky Dragons,
Jeru the Damaja,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Maurizio,
The Selecter,
Saccharine Trust,
R.M.O.,
Suburban Knight,
OOIOO,
Sonny Sharrock,
Black Bananas,
Siglo XX,
Moss Icon,
Stetsasonic,
Public Image Ltd.,
Mr. Review,
Wasted Youth,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sight & Sound,
Ronan,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.