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 Venezuela and from Hong Kong.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 guitar 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 T.S.O.L. to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Birthday Party,
Yusef Lateef,
DJ Sneak,
Eden Ahbez,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ossler,
Suburban Knight,
Arthur Verocai,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Rapeman,
Ralphi Rosario,
Suicide,
Spoonie Gee,
Althea and Donna,
The Invisible,
Derrick May,
Gang Starr,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Excepter,
Ultimate Spinach,
F. McDonald,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Red Krayola,
Max Romeo,
Japan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Beau Brummels,
Sarah Menescal,
Hashim,
Thee Headcoats,
Johnny Osbourne,
ABBA,
Bill Wells,
Lightning Bolt,
Carl Craig,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
China Crisis,
Piero Umiliani,
Anakelly,
Grey Daturas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Fear,
Neil Young,
Roxy Music,
The Zeros,
Sixth Finger,
Sällskapet,
The Last Poets,
Metal Thangz,
Alison Limerick,
Peter and Kerry,
Aloha Tigers,
Wolf Eyes,
Peter & Gordon,
Pere Ubu,
Erykah Badu,
The Cowsills,
Anthony Braxton,
Arcadia,
Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet.
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.