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 Switzerland and from Portland.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Holger Czukay 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 Anthony Braxton to the rap 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Henry Cow,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Slackers,
Fad Gadget,
Trumans Water,
Nik Kershaw,
DJ Style,
Terry Callier,
Procol Harum,
Faust,
Sparks,
Scrapy,
Bob Dylan,
Mandrill,
Idris Muhammad,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gabor Szabo,
Country Teasers,
Marine Girls,
Don Cherry,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Fela Kuti,
Ituana,
the Bar-Kays,
The Slits,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Dirtbombs,
Barry Ungar,
Tres Demented,
Stetsasonic,
Blancmange,
Sun City Girls,
The Associates,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Doors,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Jandek,
Donny Hathaway,
Robert Wyatt,
Girls At Our Best!,
Popol Vuh,
Vladislav Delay,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ken Boothe,
Kenny Larkin,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Byron Stingily,
Ronan,
Rosa Yemen,
Aswad,
Stereo Dub,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Blackbyrds,
Cecil Taylor,
The Moody Blues,
Faraquet,
Nico,
Joe Smooth,
DNA,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.