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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Johannesburg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Suicide to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Vainqueur,
Yaz,
The Fortunes,
Sällskapet,
Joyce Sims,
Scratch Acid,
The Electric Prunes,
Marmalade,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rekid,
Wasted Youth,
Stereo Dub,
Franke,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Darondo,
The Barracudas,
The Stooges,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Chris & Cosey,
Nick Fraelich,
Man Eating Sloth,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Juan Atkins,
Gang of Four,
Circle Jerks,
Gong,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bizarre Inc.,
Al Stewart,
Khruangbin,
Idris Muhammad,
Junior Murvin,
Prince Buster,
Lyres,
Marine Girls,
Mo-Dettes,
Deadbeat,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The New Christs,
Sexual Harrassment,
Moss Icon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scott Walker,
Youth Brigade,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dorothy Ashby,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sun Ra,
The Moody Blues,
Brothers Johnson,
Hardrive,
Oneida,
Joy Division,
The Invisible,
The Busters,
KRS-One,
Slick Rick,
the Bar-Kays,
The Motions,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.