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 Kuwait and from Hong Kong.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Misunderstood to the dance 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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skaos,
Metal Thangz,
Yaz,
Roxette,
Young Marble Giants,
Al Stewart,
Severed Heads,
The Music Machine,
Rapeman,
Junior Murvin,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Don Cherry,
Kevin Saunderson,
Flash Fearless,
Scientists,
Slick Rick,
Sight & Sound,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Blake Baxter,
Easy Going,
Outsiders,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sister Nancy,
Jandek,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Technova,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Monochrome Set,
the Bar-Kays,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bizarre Inc.,
World's Most,
The Tremeloes,
Smog,
The Martian,
Wally Richardson,
Vladislav Delay,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
OOIOO,
Godley & Creme,
Lungfish,
Wire,
The Real Kids,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Brass Construction,
Matthew Bourne,
Soulsonic Force,
Quantec,
The Black Dice,
Warsaw,
Mr. Review,
New York Dolls,
Arthur Verocai,
A Certain Ratio,
Connie Case,
Eden Ahbez,
The Litter,
The Residents,
June of 44,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Parry Music,
Niagra,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.