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 Lebanon and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Crispy Ambulance to the grunge 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Reagan Youth,
Anthony Braxton,
Animal Collective,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Nas,
Moebius,
Marcia Griffiths,
Radio Birdman,
Michelle Simonal,
PIL,
Von Mondo,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Skarface,
Gang Starr,
Laurel Aitken,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gil Scott Heron,
Charles Mingus,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Mr. Review,
Graham Central Station,
Jimmy McGriff,
Warren Ellis,
Ituana,
Suburban Knight,
Tomorrow,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jeff Mills,
Slave,
Alphaville,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Shuggie Otis,
Amazonics,
Neil Young,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bluetip,
Scrapy,
The Leaves,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bush Tetras,
The Walker Brothers,
John Holt,
Tim Buckley,
Mars,
The Fall,
Pantytec,
Derrick Morgan,
LL Cool J,
Jeff Lynne,
8 Eyed Spy,
Icehouse,
The Kinks,
The Monochrome Set,
Depeche Mode,
The Mojo Men,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.