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 Gabon and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bologna.
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 Lou Reed 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 Blossom Toes to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Stereo Dub,
Surgeon,
Tommy Roe,
Marc Almond,
Urselle,
Tim Buckley,
Model 500,
D'Angelo,
Intrusion,
T.S.O.L.,
Quadrant,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Vainqueur,
Suicide,
Kaleidoscope,
The Beau Brummels,
The Litter,
Kerri Chandler,
Outsiders,
The Offenders,
The Misunderstood,
The Toasters,
The Victims,
Soul II Soul,
Babytalk,
LL Cool J,
The Birthday Party,
Accadde A,
Sight & Sound,
Gang Starr,
Bob Dylan,
Joe Finger,
Fat Boys,
Dark Day,
Robert Hood,
Tears for Fears,
OOIOO,
The Last Poets,
H. Thieme,
Jawbox,
Silicon Teens,
Radio Birdman,
Be Bop Deluxe,
KRS-One,
Suburban Knight,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Ken Boothe,
The Invisible,
David Bowie,
The Slackers,
the Association,
Reagan Youth,
The Kinks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Malaria!,
Barbara Tucker,
Wire,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.