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 Solomon Islands and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Leaves to the funk 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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Chrome,
Moby Grape,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Danielle Patucci,
Wire,
Brick,
Isaac Hayes,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Black Bananas,
The Leaves,
Marine Girls,
Monolake,
Drexciya,
The Seeds,
The Five Americans,
Inner City,
Avey Tare,
Maurizio,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jandek,
Von Mondo,
Khruangbin,
Sound Behaviour,
D'Angelo,
Quadrant,
Reuben Wilson,
X-102,
Arab on Radar,
Lucky Dragons,
The Neon Judgement,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Barclay James Harvest,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Arthur Verocai,
The Monks,
Procol Harum,
Eddi Front,
Popol Vuh,
The Durutti Column,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Fugs,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Siglo XX,
Sonny Sharrock,
Thee Headcoats,
Pierre Henry,
Yazoo,
Pylon,
Bad Manners,
Erasure,
Minnie Riperton,
Althea and Donna,
Sight & Sound,
Dave Gahan,
Gang Green,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sonic Youth,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Royal Trux,
Laurel Aitken,
Cymande,
Byron Stingily,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.