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 Kosovo and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 DeepChord presents Echospace to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All KRS-One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Graham Central Station,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Fire Engines,
Lungfish,
Lindisfarne,
Surgeon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pet Shop Boys,
Harry Pussy,
Bill Near,
Silicon Teens,
Outsiders,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Patti Smith,
Bang On A Can,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sun Ra,
H. Thieme,
Au Pairs,
The Last Poets,
The Black Dice,
The Residents,
E-Dancer,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Fortunes,
Skarface,
The Saints,
Juan Atkins,
Bizarre Inc.,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Avey Tare,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Organ,
Main Source,
The Happenings,
Kaleidoscope,
Wings,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Man Parrish,
Yusef Lateef,
Chrome,
Janne Schatter,
The Standells,
Ludus,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pussy Galore,
Pierre Henry,
The Velvet Underground,
Charles Mingus,
The Barracudas,
Pagans,
Maurizio,
Blake Baxter,
Half Japanese,
Quadrant,
Brothers Johnson,
Heaven 17,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.