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 Uganda and from Shanghai.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Velvet Underground to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brand Nubian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Reagan Youth,
Radiopuhelimet,
Robert Hood,
The Grass Roots,
Qualms,
Cameo,
June Days,
Can,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ronnie Foster,
World's Most,
The Selecter,
Slave,
Matthew Halsall,
The Cramps,
The Golliwogs,
CMW,
The Sound,
Monks,
Black Bananas,
Crash Course in Science,
F. McDonald,
B.T. Express,
Freddie Wadling,
Eric Copeland,
Lightning Bolt,
Pantytec,
Bauhaus,
The New Christs,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Graham Central Station,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Joensuu 1685,
Skriet,
Fluxion,
Faraquet,
Delta 5,
Henry Cow,
Roxy Music,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Human League,
Sam Rivers,
John Cale,
ABBA,
David Axelrod,
Nick Fraelich,
Mantronix,
Fela Kuti,
Sarah Menescal,
The Leaves,
The Cowsills,
Masters at Work,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Second Layer,
Niagra,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
D'Angelo,
Ultravox,
R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O..
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.