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 Panama and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Litter. All the underground hits.
All Scan 7 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Sex Pistols,
Saccharine Trust,
Colin Newman,
Grandmaster Flash,
Dual Sessions,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bob Dylan,
Magma,
Country Teasers,
Ponytail,
The Fugs,
Black Sheep,
Joey Negro,
Sight & Sound,
Carl Craig,
John Holt,
Moss Icon,
The Smoke,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Black Bananas,
Moby Grape,
Radio Birdman,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Judy Mowatt,
Howard Jones,
Lucky Dragons,
Gang of Four,
Prince Buster,
Wings,
Radiopuhelimet,
Flipper,
The Fire Engines,
Joy Division,
Rapeman,
the Germs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Pretty Things,
The Young Rascals,
Liliput,
The Slackers,
Trumans Water,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bootsy Collins,
10cc,
UT,
Pole,
Clear Light,
Minny Pops,
The Blues Magoos,
The Blackbyrds,
Slave,
the Slits,
Gil Scott Heron,
Shuggie Otis,
Scott Walker,
Hashim,
The Seeds,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sparks,
Little Man,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.