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 Guyana and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 guitar 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 Soulsonic Force to the punk 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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Invisible record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Avey Tare,
The J.B.'s,
Aural Exciters,
Dark Day,
Isaac Hayes,
Nas,
The Cure,
H. Thieme,
Harry Pussy,
kango's stein massive,
Newcleus,
The Angels of Light,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jacob Miller,
The Knickerbockers,
Mr. Review,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Mummies,
Tommy Roe,
Carl Craig,
Barry Ungar,
The Durutti Column,
The Fire Engines,
Donald Byrd,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Rekid,
UT,
Monks,
Half Japanese,
A Certain Ratio,
Rapeman,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Germs,
Bang On A Can,
Jacques Brel,
Livin' Joy,
Joey Negro,
Bobby Womack,
Swell Maps,
Thompson Twins,
Yaz,
Pussy Galore,
Slick Rick,
Lindisfarne,
Pierre Henry,
Magma,
Can,
Youth Brigade,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wally Richardson,
Tom Boy,
Pantaleimon,
The Raincoats,
Godley & Creme,
Public Image Ltd.,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bauhaus,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Boz Scaggs,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.