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 Mali and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the techno 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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All MDC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
Pantytec,
AZ,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Clear Light,
Blossom Toes,
Roxy Music,
Barry Ungar,
The Misunderstood,
The Names,
the Germs,
Drexciya,
Vladislav Delay,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Little Man,
The Fortunes,
Max Romeo,
Youth Brigade,
Danielle Patucci,
Hashim,
The Mummies,
The United States of America,
The Sonics,
Patti Smith,
Skaos,
Anthony Braxton,
Make Up,
The Martian,
The Divine Comedy,
Excepter,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Count Five,
Piero Umiliani,
The Doors,
Fatback Band,
Black Sheep,
The Remains,
Wolf Eyes,
The Mojo Men,
H. Thieme,
Aural Exciters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Kinks,
Toni Rubio,
Althea and Donna,
Silicon Teens,
The Evens,
The Gories,
Talk Talk,
Faust,
Camouflage,
Japan,
Donald Byrd,
Rites of Spring,
Kas Product,
Sound Behaviour,
Joy Division,
Television Personalities,
Bill Near,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.