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 Austria and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 clarinet 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the electroclash 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultravox 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MC5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Mills,
The Residents,
Parry Music,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Crime,
Crooked Eye,
Tropical Tobacco,
Excepter,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Robert Hood,
Harmonia,
Second Layer,
Laurel Aitken,
Surgeon,
Andrew Hill,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Desert Stars,
The Searchers,
Oblivians,
Joe Finger,
The Young Rascals,
Bobby Byrd,
The Cramps,
MDC,
Fat Boys,
John Holt,
The Beau Brummels,
The Human League,
Flamin' Groovies,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bootsy Collins,
Don Cherry,
DJ Style,
The Gories,
Camberwell Now,
Eric Copeland,
The Wake,
Lyres,
Carl Craig,
The Smiths,
Outsiders,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Scion,
E-Dancer,
June of 44,
Junior Murvin,
Joey Negro,
Swell Maps,
Pantaleimon,
Reuben Wilson,
Todd Rundgren,
Maurizio,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Judy Mowatt,
Basic Channel,
Scott Walker,
Sight & Sound,
Ohio Players,
John Coltrane,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.