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 Venezuela and from Sao Paulo.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 James White and The Blacks to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
The Walker Brothers,
In Retrospect,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Deakin,
Jacques Brel,
Talk Talk,
Echospace,
Donny Hathaway,
Laurel Aitken,
Drexciya,
The Standells,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Theoretical Girls,
Dennis Brown,
The Alarm Clocks,
OOIOO,
Royal Trux,
The Misunderstood,
Freddie Wadling,
New Age Steppers,
Underground Resistance,
Tim Buckley,
Kenny Larkin,
World's Most,
The Smoke,
Graham Central Station,
Cybotron,
Eli Mardock,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Modern Lovers,
the Human League,
Ohio Players,
Smog,
Sun Ra,
Scratch Acid,
Iggy Pop,
Bad Manners,
Rakim,
Sparks,
Amon Düül,
Ten City,
The Five Americans,
Gang Starr,
New York Dolls,
Grauzone,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Urselle,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Move,
Matthew Bourne,
Groovy Waters,
Unwound,
Little Man,
Letta Mbulu,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jeff Mills,
One Last Wish,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Fortunes,
Half Japanese,
Lindisfarne,
Y Pants,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.