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 South Africa and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 marimba 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 Robert Görl to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unrelated Segments record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Harry Pussy,
CMW,
Howard Jones,
The Knickerbockers,
K-Klass,
Khruangbin,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Royal Trux,
Panda Bear,
Aswad,
Scion,
Toni Rubio,
Goldenarms,
The Dead C,
New Age Steppers,
Y Pants,
Fluxion,
Flamin' Groovies,
Colin Newman,
The Modern Lovers,
Mars,
Lindisfarne,
Trumans Water,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Spoonie Gee,
Deadbeat,
The Detroit Cobras,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Anthony Braxton,
The Cure,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bob Dylan,
Pantytec,
Adolescents,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Drive Like Jehu,
Black Bananas,
Eric Copeland,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Dirtbombs,
The Vogues,
Kenny Larkin,
Ossler,
The New Christs,
The American Breed,
Erykah Badu,
Chris Corsano,
The Raincoats,
The Remains,
Sexual Harrassment,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Lakeside,
Wasted Youth,
Wolf Eyes,
Arcadia,
Bootsy Collins,
Man Eating Sloth,
Graham Central Station,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.