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 Cuba and from Columbus.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Make Up to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lakeside. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Negative Approach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a KRS-One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
Patti Smith,
Youth Brigade,
The Knickerbockers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Simply Red,
Accadde A,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tropical Tobacco,
Index,
Loose Ends,
Wasted Youth,
Frankie Knuckles,
Eve St. Jones,
New Order,
John Foxx,
Prince Buster,
Roxette,
Byron Stingily,
Vainqueur,
Buzzcocks,
James White and The Blacks,
Porter Ricks,
Motorama,
Chris & Cosey,
Cal Tjader,
The Residents,
H. Thieme,
cv313,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Terry Callier,
Cameo,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Glenn Branca,
Chris Corsano,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Sonics,
Visage,
Todd Terry,
The Young Rascals,
The Cramps,
Stiv Bators,
Charles Mingus,
Todd Rundgren,
Max Romeo,
the Germs,
The Red Krayola,
Blossom Toes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ultravox,
Blancmange,
the Normal,
The Barracudas,
Brass Construction,
Bootsy Collins,
The Searchers,
Carl Craig,
Inner City,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.