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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 arpeggiator 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 The Monks to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Minny Pops,
Jimmy McGriff,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Angry Samoans,
Derrick Morgan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Slits,
Deakin,
The Misunderstood,
Curtis Mayfield,
Symarip,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cluster,
The Doors,
Matthew Bourne,
Amazonics,
Black Pus,
Supertramp,
Clear Light,
The Young Rascals,
Pylon,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Sound,
8 Eyed Spy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Judy Mowatt,
Joe Smooth,
Pussy Galore,
Q and Not U,
Gregory Isaacs,
Franke,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mission of Burma,
The Sonics,
Brick,
Scientists,
Buzzcocks,
Minor Threat,
Electric Prunes,
The Barracudas,
The Birthday Party,
Darondo,
Guru Guru,
Surgeon,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Graham Central Station,
Qualms,
The Techniques,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Aural Exciters,
the Sonics,
Boz Scaggs,
Interpol,
Lungfish,
Swans,
Sam Rivers,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.