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 Congo and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the techno 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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Shadows of Knight,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bobby Sherman,
Gong,
Swell Maps,
Bill Wells,
Arcadia,
Howard Jones,
Black Moon,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
R.M.O.,
Unwound,
Liliput,
The Martian,
Magma,
The Sonics,
Lightning Bolt,
Absolute Body Control,
Lakeside,
Second Layer,
Loose Ends,
Banda Bassotti,
Thompson Twins,
Alice Coltrane,
Traffic Nightmare,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Red Krayola,
Jerry's Kids,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fatback Band,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Susan Cadogan,
The Evens,
Black Bananas,
Malaria!,
Soulsonic Force,
Nick Fraelich,
Ornette Coleman,
Desert Stars,
The Leaves,
The Remains,
Sexual Harrassment,
Slave,
Porter Ricks,
These Immortal Souls,
Jeru the Damaja,
Schoolly D,
Eric Dolphy,
In Retrospect,
Pere Ubu,
Minutemen,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Fortunes,
Jawbox,
The Velvet Underground,
The Cramps,
Freddie Wadling,
The Raincoats,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Thee Headcoats,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.