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 San Marino and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Drexciya 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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Guru Guru 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Fear,
The Pretty Things,
Interpol,
Lakeside,
Grey Daturas,
Spandau Ballet,
Rod Modell,
The Durutti Column,
Eve St. Jones,
Stereo Dub,
Bobby Sherman,
The Moody Blues,
Public Image Ltd.,
Marmalade,
Symarip,
Man Eating Sloth,
Glambeats Corp.,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Yusef Lateef,
New York Dolls,
B.T. Express,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Selecter,
the Association,
Marc Almond,
Todd Rundgren,
Glenn Branca,
Michelle Simonal,
The Litter,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Amon Düül II,
In Retrospect,
Siglo XX,
T. Rex,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Royal Trux,
Warren Ellis,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bobby Byrd,
Sun Ra,
E-Dancer,
Nas,
Rotary Connection,
Motorama,
Soft Cell,
Bush Tetras,
The Stooges,
Ultravox,
Jacob Miller,
FM Einheit,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hardrive,
Marine Girls,
Goldenarms,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
10cc,
The Moleskins,
Ronnie Foster,
The Music Machine,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.