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 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Monks to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
Camouflage,
One Last Wish,
China Crisis,
Todd Terry,
This Heat,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rites of Spring,
The Smiths,
Siglo XX,
The Misunderstood,
Man Parrish,
Lakeside,
Harry Pussy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
John Holt,
Radio Birdman,
Eurythmics,
Byron Stingily,
Eli Mardock,
Ice-T,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dual Sessions,
Alice Coltrane,
Idris Muhammad,
Dark Day,
The Cramps,
Duran Duran,
The Fall,
Altered Images,
Quadrant,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pole,
the Sonics,
T. Rex,
Delta 5,
Bang On A Can,
Fatback Band,
Marc Almond,
X-Ray Spex,
The Searchers,
Todd Rundgren,
Grauzone,
Black Flag,
Jerry's Kids,
Dawn Penn,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Barracudas,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Slits,
Kayak,
Main Source,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rekid,
The Monks,
Y Pants,
Clear Light,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kerrie Biddell,
Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens.
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.