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 Barbados and from Milan.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Robert Palmer 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
the Germs,
48th St. Collective,
Joensuu 1685,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The J.B.'s,
Franke,
Mission of Burma,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jimmy McGriff,
MDC,
The New Christs,
Pagans,
Susan Cadogan,
Echospace,
The Dead C,
John Holt,
The Gories,
The Happenings,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Soft Cell,
Monks,
Nils Olav,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Amon Düül II,
X-102,
Henry Cow,
Todd Rundgren,
OOIOO,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sandy B,
Faraquet,
Mandrill,
Davy DMX,
Bad Manners,
Boredoms,
Black Flag,
Gang Gang Dance,
Electric Prunes,
Scan 7,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
World's Most,
The Saints,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Au Pairs,
Chris & Cosey,
The Music Machine,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rod Modell,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Man Parrish,
Sällskapet,
Royal Trux,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Zero Boys,
Sparks,
Cal Tjader,
Brothers Johnson,
Main Source,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.