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 Botswana and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 rhodes 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 Man Eating Sloth to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & Metallica record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Aswad,
Lucky Dragons,
Sex Pistols,
Jacob Miller,
Soulsonic Force,
Fat Boys,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Swans,
The Last Poets,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Don Cherry,
The Cure,
Gil Scott Heron,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Television,
Prince Buster,
Simply Red,
Black Moon,
Intrusion,
Lalann,
The Golliwogs,
La Düsseldorf,
Y Pants,
Fugazi,
Eli Mardock,
Steve Hackett,
Can,
Q65,
Pantaleimon,
The Fall,
Charles Mingus,
OOIOO,
Blancmange,
Lee Hazlewood,
Nik Kershaw,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Mars,
John Holt,
Juan Atkins,
Depeche Mode,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jesper Dahlback,
Amazonics,
Cybotron,
Bill Wells,
Dark Day,
Scientists,
Cheater Slicks,
Minor Threat,
Soul II Soul,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The New Christs,
Todd Terry,
The Leaves,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ultimate Spinach,
Grauzone,
CMW,
The Black Dice,
Fatback Band,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.