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 Sierra Leone and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Lou Reed 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 Khruangbin to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Gil Scott Heron,
Nico,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Second Layer,
Pantytec,
Infiniti,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Absolute Body Control,
The Cramps,
Alison Limerick,
Television Personalities,
ABBA,
Joy Division,
Jeru the Damaja,
Outsiders,
Heaven 17,
Underground Resistance,
Jacob Miller,
Aswad,
Cal Tjader,
Ponytail,
Liliput,
Eli Mardock,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Blues Magoos,
Brick,
Kool Moe Dee,
Glambeats Corp.,
Accadde A,
The Dirtbombs,
Thompson Twins,
Gang of Four,
John Coltrane,
Flipper,
Fugazi,
The Barracudas,
The Five Americans,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Shoche,
Schoolly D,
The Litter,
Mandrill,
Quantec,
Avey Tare,
Spandau Ballet,
Gong,
Anakelly,
Organ,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Maleditus Sound,
Niagra,
Von Mondo,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Vladislav Delay,
DJ Style,
Archie Shepp,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Harry Pussy,
Con Funk Shun,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.