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 Russia and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar 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 Stockholm Monsters to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New Order record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Angry Samoans,
Gang Green,
Dorothy Ashby,
MDC,
The Zeros,
Rotary Connection,
Max Romeo,
the Bar-Kays,
Subhumans,
Das Ding,
Mandrill,
Tres Demented,
Ultravox,
The Durutti Column,
Monolake,
The Grass Roots,
Severed Heads,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Unrelated Segments,
The Victims,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
R.M.O.,
Eric Copeland,
Andrew Hill,
Nas,
The Velvet Underground,
DJ Sneak,
Pole,
the Swans,
The Fuzztones,
Althea and Donna,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Grey Daturas,
In Retrospect,
World's Most,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Black Dice,
Ultimate Spinach,
Radiopuhelimet,
Mad Mike,
John Foxx,
Second Layer,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fluxion,
The Invisible,
Jacob Miller,
John Coltrane,
U.S. Maple,
Peter & Gordon,
cv313,
Bobby Sherman,
Deakin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Swans,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Neon Judgement,
Tomorrow,
Schoolly D,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.