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 Indonesia and from Mumbai.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Donald Fagen 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the funk 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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s 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 Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Divine Comedy,
Moebius,
Motorama,
Camouflage,
Fear,
Jeff Mills,
Oblivians,
Hot Snakes,
Sparks,
The Human League,
The Litter,
Black Bananas,
Don Cherry,
John Holt,
The Red Krayola,
Trumans Water,
Angry Samoans,
Swans,
The Blackbyrds,
X-102,
Prince Buster,
Anakelly,
The American Breed,
Sun City Girls,
Yusef Lateef,
Panda Bear,
David Axelrod,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Cecil Taylor,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Music Machine,
The Doobie Brothers,
Urselle,
Kurtis Blow,
X-Ray Spex,
E-Dancer,
Crooked Eye,
Saccharine Trust,
Junior Murvin,
Reagan Youth,
Lyres,
Barrington Levy,
Boz Scaggs,
The Walker Brothers,
DJ Sneak,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Cramps,
Stereo Dub,
Gichy Dan,
Malaria!,
Monolake,
Morten Harket,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Count Five,
The Beau Brummels,
Rotary Connection,
the Swans,
T.S.O.L.,
The Dirtbombs,
Drive Like Jehu,
F. McDonald,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.