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 Guinea-Bissau and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Alice Coltrane to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Robert Hood,
DNA,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Liliput,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Minutemen,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Buzzcocks,
The Vogues,
Bill Near,
Brothers Johnson,
the Normal,
Johnny Osbourne,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Excepter,
Procol Harum,
Todd Rundgren,
Lakeside,
The Shadows of Knight,
Frankie Knuckles,
Black Sheep,
Lee Hazlewood,
FM Einheit,
Eric Copeland,
Audionom,
Panda Bear,
Anakelly,
Inner City,
B.T. Express,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Whodini,
Camouflage,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Nick Fraelich,
Franke,
Pussy Galore,
Lyres,
David Axelrod,
Gregory Isaacs,
David Bowie,
Glenn Branca,
Section 25,
Moss Icon,
China Crisis,
Heaven 17,
Lalann,
Cal Tjader,
Yellowson,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Desert Stars,
Junior Murvin,
Mission of Burma,
Maleditus Sound,
The Smiths,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pierre Henry,
Ralphi Rosario,
Silicon Teens,
E-Dancer,
Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48.
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.