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 Ivory Coast and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 snare 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rap 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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Animal Collective,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Walker Brothers,
Shuggie Otis,
X-102,
Stereo Dub,
The J.B.'s,
MDC,
48th St. Collective,
Q65,
Essential Logic,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lucky Dragons,
H. Thieme,
Cybotron,
Yaz,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bobby Byrd,
Basic Channel,
Intrusion,
Popol Vuh,
Barbara Tucker,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ronnie Foster,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Busters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sam Rivers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mandrill,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Severed Heads,
The Durutti Column,
Matthew Bourne,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Wally Richardson,
Brick,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Graham Central Station,
Arab on Radar,
Circle Jerks,
Erasure,
Boredoms,
Howard Jones,
Ponytail,
The Star Department,
Depeche Mode,
The Index,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Livin' Joy,
The Happenings,
Stiv Bators,
Joe Smooth,
Alton Ellis,
Duran Duran,
Sound Behaviour,
Organ,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.