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 Montenegro and from Manila.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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?
Echo & the Bunnymen,
MC5,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bill Wells,
Reuben Wilson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Connie Case,
Bronski Beat,
Joe Finger,
Wasted Youth,
The Count Five,
The Knickerbockers,
Desert Stars,
Sight & Sound,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fear,
The Grass Roots,
John Holt,
The Walker Brothers,
Josef K,
Surgeon,
Kayak,
Sandy B,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Adolescents,
Harry Pussy,
This Heat,
Howard Jones,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Divine Comedy,
The Dirtbombs,
Siglo XX,
Dennis Brown,
The Sound,
Scion,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Robert Wyatt,
David Axelrod,
Severed Heads,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Graham Central Station,
Cecil Taylor,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Flash Fearless,
Rufus Thomas,
The Pretty Things,
Arab on Radar,
Zapp,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Boredoms,
Alice Coltrane,
the Slits,
JFA,
10cc,
Danielle Patucci,
Crash Course in Science,
Letta Mbulu,
Symarip,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.