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 Belgium and from Edmonton.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the theremin 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 H. Thieme to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Chris Corsano,
Pharoah Sanders,
KRS-One,
AZ,
World's Most,
Jeff Mills,
Intrusion,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Slits,
Metal Thangz,
Aloha Tigers,
the Soft Cell,
The Litter,
Janne Schatter,
L. Decosne,
The Walker Brothers,
Altered Images,
Connie Case,
Sugar Minott,
The Offenders,
Jesper Dahlback,
Slick Rick,
The American Breed,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Barclay James Harvest,
Albert Ayler,
The Vogues,
Adolescents,
The Names,
Bobby Sherman,
Eyeless In Gaza,
T.S.O.L.,
Bad Manners,
Kaleidoscope,
The Gories,
Mars,
The Move,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Real Kids,
Man Eating Sloth,
Scott Walker,
Nas,
The Associates,
John Holt,
The Gladiators,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Dirtbombs,
Von Mondo,
The Cramps,
Sex Pistols,
Roxy Music,
Kas Product,
Funky Four + One,
Lightning Bolt,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lower 48,
Harry Pussy,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.