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 El Salvador and from Tehran.
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 Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Hashim to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Searchers. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Animal Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neu!,
Lyres,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Tremeloes,
Crooked Eye,
Crispy Ambulance,
Boz Scaggs,
The Victims,
Bluetip,
Mark Hollis,
F. McDonald,
Boogie Down Productions,
Yusef Lateef,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Rosa Yemen,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Wasted Youth,
Thompson Twins,
Robert Hood,
Shoche,
Eric B and Rakim,
Adolescents,
Massinfluence,
Surgeon,
The Selecter,
Soft Cell,
Laurel Aitken,
Fat Boys,
Camberwell Now,
Throbbing Gristle,
Buzzcocks,
Bobby Womack,
Goldenarms,
Essential Logic,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Barry Ungar,
The Monks,
Derrick May,
June of 44,
Cheater Slicks,
Roger Hodgson,
The Gap Band,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Loose Ends,
The Walker Brothers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Aural Exciters,
Flash Fearless,
Joey Negro,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Josef K,
Dead Boys,
Con Funk Shun,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
Crispian St. Peters,
Depeche Mode,
The Human League,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ultra Naté,
Harmonia,
Ohio Players,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.