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 Netherlands and from Shanghai.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Henry Cow to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sandy B,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jacob Miller,
Soft Machine,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Anthony Braxton,
The Blues Magoos,
Wire,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Shadows of Knight,
Max Romeo,
Pole,
Bootsy Collins,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Misunderstood,
Ossler,
David McCallum,
Cluster,
Zero Boys,
Unwound,
Glambeats Corp.,
Quantec,
June Days,
Pulsallama,
The Pop Group,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Knickerbockers,
The Red Krayola,
Howard Jones,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Alarm Clocks,
Outsiders,
Fatback Band,
UT,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Eurythmics,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Germs,
Excepter,
JFA,
Mandrill,
Jeff Lynne,
Alice Coltrane,
CMW,
Roy Ayers,
Heaven 17,
Nik Kershaw,
Sight & Sound,
The Associates,
Andrew Hill,
Mission of Burma,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Arcadia,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lou Reed,
U.S. Maple,
Kayak,
The Dead C,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.