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 Bangladesh and from Beijing.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Roxette tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pet Shop Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alison Limerick,
Hardrive,
Minny Pops,
Khruangbin,
The Mummies,
Todd Rundgren,
The Cramps,
Pussy Galore,
Sexual Harrassment,
These Immortal Souls,
Rakim,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Fortunes,
Guru Guru,
The J.B.'s,
The Last Poets,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deakin,
Crime,
Barbara Tucker,
Underground Resistance,
Deadbeat,
Soft Machine,
Sällskapet,
Sun City Girls,
Moebius,
Glambeats Corp.,
Stereo Dub,
John Lydon,
Little Man,
Electric Prunes,
The Wake,
Angry Samoans,
Tomorrow,
The Tremeloes,
Bobby Sherman,
Laurel Aitken,
F. McDonald,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rosa Yemen,
The Saints,
Warren Ellis,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gong,
Duran Duran,
Kas Product,
Eric Copeland,
Ronan,
Suicide,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Half Japanese,
Kool Moe Dee,
R.M.O.,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
48th St. Collective,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
T. Rex,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Skriet,
Newcleus,
Pet Shop Boys,
Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson.
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.