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 Ecuador and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Procol Harum to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All The Gories tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Tremeloes,
Fela Kuti,
Supertramp,
Barrington Levy,
Archie Shepp,
Nirvana,
Blossom Toes,
The Leaves,
The American Breed,
The Neon Judgement,
Josef K,
The Seeds,
Traffic Nightmare,
Swell Maps,
Eric B and Rakim,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
China Crisis,
David McCallum,
Peter and Kerry,
Barbara Tucker,
Quantec,
Lightning Bolt,
the Slits,
John Coltrane,
Section 25,
Johnny Osbourne,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ultra Naté,
Excepter,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Organ,
Toni Rubio,
Masters at Work,
Slave,
Pole,
Tom Boy,
The Slackers,
Mars,
Glambeats Corp.,
Danielle Patucci,
Monks,
Skaos,
Pulsallama,
The Young Rascals,
Average White Band,
Duran Duran,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Donald Byrd,
Alice Coltrane,
Pussy Galore,
Moebius,
Kool Moe Dee,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fugazi,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ice-T,
Matthew Bourne,
Agitation Free,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.