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 Dominican Republic and from Manchester.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 theremin 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 Ultra Naté to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
The Count Five,
The Smoke,
Neu!,
Sex Pistols,
Kenny Larkin,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Wake,
Lungfish,
Mo-Dettes,
Black Bananas,
Icehouse,
June of 44,
the Normal,
X-Ray Spex,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gang Starr,
E-Dancer,
Arcadia,
Harry Pussy,
Radio Birdman,
the Soft Cell,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sister Nancy,
The Angels of Light,
Youth Brigade,
Cal Tjader,
Wally Richardson,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Nick Fraelich,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bill Wells,
B.T. Express,
Scientists,
Graham Central Station,
Cecil Taylor,
The Golliwogs,
Sight & Sound,
Skaos,
Hoover,
The Music Machine,
Severed Heads,
Con Funk Shun,
Colin Newman,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Blake Baxter,
Marshall Jefferson,
Letta Mbulu,
the Bar-Kays,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jeff Lynne,
Lucky Dragons,
Barclay James Harvest,
Outsiders,
Kayak,
D'Angelo,
Warren Ellis,
Toni Rubio,
The J.B.'s,
Kas Product,
Eric Copeland,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.