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 Zambia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 mellotron 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alton Ellis,
Supertramp,
Ten City,
F. McDonald,
Kayak,
Surgeon,
Ultra Naté,
Aswad,
Goldenarms,
Porter Ricks,
The Smoke,
Dark Day,
The Durutti Column,
Pagans,
Fela Kuti,
Kerri Chandler,
The Smiths,
Patti Smith,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Dave Gahan,
Crime,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Albert Ayler,
Nik Kershaw,
Excepter,
The Star Department,
Letta Mbulu,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Bronski Beat,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Organ,
Judy Mowatt,
Lucky Dragons,
Black Bananas,
Make Up,
Babytalk,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Malaria!,
Joe Smooth,
JFA,
The Sound,
Niagra,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Duran Duran,
Second Layer,
Bob Dylan,
Masters at Work,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Fad Gadget,
Franke,
Rosa Yemen,
The American Breed,
Liliput,
Michelle Simonal,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Vladislav Delay,
Funky Four + One,
The Five Americans,
Tommy Roe,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.