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 Moldova and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Popol Vuh to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bootsy's Rubber Band. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
Index,
Roy Ayers,
The Cramps,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Fall,
Kenny Larkin,
Todd Rundgren,
F. McDonald,
Johnny Clarke,
Sonny Sharrock,
Silicon Teens,
Isaac Hayes,
Harmonia,
Ken Boothe,
Scratch Acid,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gang Gang Dance,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Crime,
Spandau Ballet,
Arab on Radar,
MDC,
Girls At Our Best!,
Mo-Dettes,
the Sonics,
Flash Fearless,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Gories,
OOIOO,
Stereo Dub,
The Grass Roots,
The Slackers,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Electric Prunes,
Nils Olav,
Technova,
In Retrospect,
Buzzcocks,
Jeff Mills,
Minnie Riperton,
Easy Going,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mandrill,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Young Rascals,
The Knickerbockers,
Brand Nubian,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Urselle,
The Human League,
Bobby Womack,
Leonard Cohen,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Germs,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lou Reed,
Circle Jerks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.