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 Portugal and from Lyon.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Dave Gahan to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kenny Larkin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonic Youth,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pole,
LL Cool J,
UT,
Cybotron,
Janne Schatter,
Barrington Levy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Public Image Ltd.,
Thompson Twins,
The Electric Prunes,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Mission of Burma,
The Beau Brummels,
Sound Behaviour,
Liliput,
Peter and Kerry,
Crime,
Ultra Naté,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Man Eating Sloth,
Trumans Water,
Malaria!,
The Buckinghams,
The Cramps,
Tubeway Army,
Schoolly D,
Half Japanese,
L. Decosne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marmalade,
Bauhaus,
Dorothy Ashby,
John Coltrane,
Mo-Dettes,
Youth Brigade,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Smog,
Warren Ellis,
Ponytail,
Bob Dylan,
Radio Birdman,
MDC,
Fad Gadget,
The Last Poets,
Ornette Coleman,
Minutemen,
Jimmy McGriff,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Crash Course in Science,
Joe Smooth,
The Divine Comedy,
Joyce Sims,
Sarah Menescal,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Grey Daturas,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cecil Taylor,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.