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 Belize and from Bremen.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 rhodes 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 The Cramps to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All the Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bad Manners record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Soulsonic Force,
Brand Nubian,
F. McDonald,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Nico,
Stiv Bators,
Saccharine Trust,
Quando Quango,
Gang Green,
Agent Orange,
Matthew Halsall,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Neon Judgement,
The Smiths,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Hasil Adkins,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Donny Hathaway,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Desert Stars,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gong,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Quantec,
Erasure,
Wire,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Nirvana,
Severed Heads,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Birthday Party,
The Fugs,
The Vogues,
Alison Limerick,
Barry Ungar,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Buckinghams,
New Age Steppers,
Connie Case,
Delon & Dalcan,
Carl Craig,
Scott Walker,
Mr. Review,
Sam Rivers,
The Walker Brothers,
Cymande,
Rites of Spring,
Das Ding,
Cal Tjader,
The Move,
Lyres,
Unwound,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pussy Galore,
Inner City,
Pierre Henry,
Sun City Girls,
Crime,
Nils Olav,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.