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 Mali and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 mellotron 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 Desert Stars to the jazz 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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Funky Four + One,
Grandmaster Flash,
Talk Talk,
Carl Craig,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Yazoo,
Subhumans,
Symarip,
Accadde A,
Marcia Griffiths,
Technova,
Minor Threat,
Colin Newman,
The Move,
Roy Ayers,
Wire,
The Mojo Men,
Crispian St. Peters,
Boredoms,
Joe Smooth,
Lucky Dragons,
Lalo Schifrin,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Maleditus Sound,
Don Cherry,
Eve St. Jones,
Hasil Adkins,
Crash Course in Science,
Bluetip,
Dead Boys,
Piero Umiliani,
The Victims,
The Blackbyrds,
Rosa Yemen,
Barrington Levy,
Cecil Taylor,
Aural Exciters,
The Motions,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Henry Cow,
Fear,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Make Up,
The Walker Brothers,
Byron Stingily,
Vladislav Delay,
Von Mondo,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Livin' Joy,
Joy Division,
The Human League,
The Techniques,
Kevin Saunderson,
Outsiders,
Pole,
PIL,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.