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 St Kitts & Nevis 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 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 the Soft Cell to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
Model 500,
Aaron Thompson,
Slave,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gerry Rafferty,
Laurel Aitken,
Youth Brigade,
Lightning Bolt,
Kurtis Blow,
L. Decosne,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Neon Judgement,
Jawbox,
Anthony Braxton,
Grauzone,
Quadrant,
Grandmaster Flash,
Popol Vuh,
Silicon Teens,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wally Richardson,
U.S. Maple,
James White and The Blacks,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Hasil Adkins,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cameo,
John Coltrane,
Hashim,
Circle Jerks,
La Düsseldorf,
Ponytail,
a-ha,
The Blackbyrds,
The Associates,
Deakin,
John Foxx,
Boredoms,
The Mummies,
The Residents,
Camouflage,
Banda Bassotti,
Kayak,
Rapeman,
Porter Ricks,
E-Dancer,
Black Sheep,
These Immortal Souls,
Andrew Hill,
Aural Exciters,
Ronan,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
KRS-One,
Bronski Beat,
Bang On A Can,
Gang Starr,
The J.B.'s,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Names,
Morten Harket,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.