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 Afghanistan and from Lille.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Black Pus to the grime 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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Terry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Association,
Severed Heads,
Harpers Bizarre,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The New Christs,
Monks,
Bluetip,
Ronan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Young Marble Giants,
The Skatalites,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Monks,
Boredoms,
Black Moon,
Todd Terry,
Visage,
The Gladiators,
Wings,
the Bar-Kays,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Magazine,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Tommy Roe,
Lightning Bolt,
Scrapy,
The Blues Magoos,
Ronnie Foster,
Technova,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dead Boys,
Sex Pistols,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tomorrow,
Das Ding,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Moby Grape,
Ossler,
Radiopuhelimet,
Symarip,
Minny Pops,
Shuggie Otis,
The Barracudas,
Black Bananas,
Lyres,
Loose Ends,
New Age Steppers,
X-Ray Spex,
Minnie Riperton,
Matthew Halsall,
Barclay James Harvest,
Joensuu 1685,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jerry's Kids,
Buzzcocks,
Patti Smith,
Zapp,
The Vogues,
Au Pairs,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.