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 Senegal and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 oboe 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 Gang Green to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kayak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
The Real Kids,
Saccharine Trust,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Symarip,
Deadbeat,
Eddi Front,
Alice Coltrane,
Slick Rick,
Darondo,
The Fire Engines,
Byron Stingily,
Sun Ra,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
T. Rex,
The Blackbyrds,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kaleidoscope,
The Saints,
Stockholm Monsters,
Radio Birdman,
Ultra Naté,
K-Klass,
Alphaville,
Donald Byrd,
Whodini,
Laurel Aitken,
The Remains,
Quantec,
David Bowie,
Man Parrish,
MDC,
Warren Ellis,
Yazoo,
Jawbox,
The Buckinghams,
Bad Manners,
Kas Product,
Drive Like Jehu,
Aural Exciters,
Interpol,
Delta 5,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Angry Samoans,
Ken Boothe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bush Tetras,
Brass Construction,
Stereo Dub,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Accadde A,
Deakin,
Sixth Finger,
Juan Atkins,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Kinks,
Scan 7,
Fear,
Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players.
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.