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 Djibouti and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 synthesizer 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 The Black Dice to the grunge 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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every MC5 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Copeland,
The Dirtbombs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Interpol,
Barry Ungar,
AZ,
The Stooges,
Von Mondo,
Roger Hodgson,
Country Teasers,
Kurtis Blow,
John Lydon,
LL Cool J,
Chrome,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Seeds,
Hot Snakes,
Iggy Pop,
The Gladiators,
Absolute Body Control,
The Mojo Men,
Deepchord,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Yellowson,
Wolf Eyes,
Maleditus Sound,
Symarip,
Altered Images,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Shuggie Otis,
Amon Düül,
Man Parrish,
Wire,
U.S. Maple,
The United States of America,
Vladislav Delay,
The Index,
Skaos,
Wally Richardson,
Rites of Spring,
Amon Düül II,
Danielle Patucci,
Masters at Work,
The Modern Lovers,
Subhumans,
Bill Wells,
The Last Poets,
Johnny Clarke,
Brothers Johnson,
Bootsy Collins,
Joe Finger,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ken Boothe,
Lou Reed,
DJ Sneak,
Visage,
The Gun Club,
Deakin,
Robert Hood,
Icehouse,
Newcleus,
Livin' Joy,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.