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 Uruguay and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 harpsichord 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 John Lydon to the punk 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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
cv313,
the Soft Cell,
Heaven 17,
Parry Music,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Suburban Knight,
Be Bop Deluxe,
MC5,
Laurel Aitken,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Outsiders,
Hashim,
Los Fastidios,
Dual Sessions,
a-ha,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Wasted Youth,
Aloha Tigers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pussy Galore,
Chrome,
Trumans Water,
X-102,
K-Klass,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Fad Gadget,
Gichy Dan,
The Invisible,
Model 500,
The Wake,
John Foxx,
The Raincoats,
Boz Scaggs,
Erasure,
The Angels of Light,
Connie Case,
The Music Machine,
China Crisis,
Half Japanese,
Camouflage,
Gong,
The Victims,
Rekid,
Pylon,
Quadrant,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sun City Girls,
Aural Exciters,
Nas,
Chris Corsano,
Panda Bear,
The Grass Roots,
Anthony Braxton,
Lungfish,
Brand Nubian,
Japan,
June Days,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.