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 Bolivia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Hong Kong and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Lou Reed 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 Derrick May to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All Aswad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
World's Most,
Robert Wyatt,
Organ,
Kevin Saunderson,
Joe Smooth,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Juan Atkins,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Simply Red,
Jawbox,
Con Funk Shun,
Johnny Clarke,
Jeff Mills,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Stockholm Monsters,
Blossom Toes,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Cowsills,
Moebius,
Faraquet,
Buzzcocks,
Bluetip,
Harry Pussy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Camberwell Now,
Nico,
The Blues Magoos,
Agent Orange,
the Soft Cell,
Joey Negro,
In Retrospect,
June Days,
Tommy Roe,
The New Christs,
Stetsasonic,
Gang Starr,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cheater Slicks,
DJ Style,
Cecil Taylor,
The Zeros,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Minny Pops,
Panda Bear,
LL Cool J,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Susan Cadogan,
Delon & Dalcan,
Underground Resistance,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tim Buckley,
Vainqueur,
Sixth Finger,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Victims,
Nirvana,
The Gories,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.