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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Slick Rick to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Danielle Patucci. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Blake Baxter,
Eddi Front,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Procol Harum,
Trumans Water,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jandek,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Crash Course in Science,
Symarip,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Eden Ahbez,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Zeros,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Nick Fraelich,
Crispian St. Peters,
Monks,
Blossom Toes,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Los Fastidios,
Moby Grape,
Easy Going,
Reagan Youth,
Vladislav Delay,
Television Personalities,
The Gun Club,
Simply Red,
Mantronix,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Residents,
Reuben Wilson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Deepchord,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Red Krayola,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Misunderstood,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Alice Coltrane,
OOIOO,
Schoolly D,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Brothers Johnson,
Ohio Players,
The Blackbyrds,
The Monks,
Lungfish,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tubeway Army,
The Divine Comedy,
The Litter,
The Slackers,
Tomorrow,
Gabor Szabo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Smog,
Lindisfarne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers.
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.