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 Tanzania and from Paris.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
Bizarre Inc.,
Subhumans,
The Sonics,
Crash Course in Science,
The Black Dice,
Lucky Dragons,
Q65,
Kenny Larkin,
Warsaw,
The Monks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Popol Vuh,
Alphaville,
Tres Demented,
Ultravox,
Talk Talk,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Victims,
Animal Collective,
Deadbeat,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mars,
The Moody Blues,
Adolescents,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tears for Fears,
Marc Almond,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Fugs,
Eden Ahbez,
Flipper,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sight & Sound,
Cal Tjader,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Electric Prunes,
Black Moon,
Susan Cadogan,
The Names,
The Toasters,
Joyce Sims,
Nico,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Electric Prunes,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Five Americans,
Bobby Sherman,
Charles Mingus,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Brick,
Lebanon Hanover,
Arcadia,
The Fortunes,
Bill Wells,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ronnie Foster,
Livin' Joy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.