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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Black Moon to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Sexual Harrassment,
Metal Thangz,
Grandmaster Flash,
Gil Scott Heron,
Q65,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Al Stewart,
Interpol,
Gang Green,
Neil Young,
Avey Tare,
Roxette,
Ultravox,
Brothers Johnson,
Echospace,
Tubeway Army,
Soulsonic Force,
Sun City Girls,
The Human League,
Soul Sonic Force,
Cymande,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ludus,
Cybotron,
cv313,
Dual Sessions,
Mars,
Lucky Dragons,
Pierre Henry,
Hashim,
Schoolly D,
Eli Mardock,
Black Bananas,
Vladislav Delay,
Second Layer,
Livin' Joy,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bobby Byrd,
Slave,
The Selecter,
The Motions,
Rekid,
The Pretty Things,
The Angels of Light,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Searchers,
Can,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Grass Roots,
The Velvet Underground,
Gang of Four,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Skarface,
U.S. Maple,
The Modern Lovers,
Rod Modell,
The Neon Judgement,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Sheep,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.