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 Croatia and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 organ 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 Ultra Naté to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Matthew Halsall,
The Victims,
Ronan,
Soft Machine,
Drive Like Jehu,
Robert Wyatt,
Sight & Sound,
Sällskapet,
The Walker Brothers,
The Blackbyrds,
Technova,
Brass Construction,
Lalann,
Johnny Clarke,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Theoretical Girls,
Harry Pussy,
Cymande,
Fluxion,
Monolake,
Patti Smith,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joe Finger,
Black Flag,
Sandy B,
Radiopuhelimet,
Swell Maps,
David Axelrod,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Aswad,
Traffic Nightmare,
cv313,
Pagans,
Jacob Miller,
DJ Style,
Goldenarms,
Gang Gang Dance,
John Lydon,
Dawn Penn,
June Days,
Carl Craig,
The Young Rascals,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Smog,
Gong,
Colin Newman,
Max Romeo,
Freddie Wadling,
The Shadows of Knight,
E-Dancer,
Index,
Wally Richardson,
The Residents,
The Modern Lovers,
The Neon Judgement,
Arthur Verocai,
Tres Demented,
Blake Baxter,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ken Boothe,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.