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 Sudan and from Jakarta.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Tehran.
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 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fifty Foot Hose record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
Crooked Eye,
Joe Smooth,
Dennis Brown,
The Happenings,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Black Dice,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Q and Not U,
Hot Snakes,
The Gladiators,
Jeff Mills,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Nick Fraelich,
Khruangbin,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Cure,
Rod Modell,
Slick Rick,
Skarface,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Dead C,
Kaleidoscope,
EPMD,
Desert Stars,
Underground Resistance,
Audionom,
Porter Ricks,
David McCallum,
Mr. Review,
Tears for Fears,
Camouflage,
Alphaville,
Newcleus,
Spandau Ballet,
Sound Behaviour,
Fatback Band,
ABC,
Scrapy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Amazonics,
Barbara Tucker,
Sun City Girls,
Alison Limerick,
Yusef Lateef,
Guru Guru,
Electric Prunes,
Derrick May,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Evens,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Star Department,
The Durutti Column,
Trumans Water,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Donald Byrd,
the Sonics,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Invisible,
Pantaleimon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques.
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.