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 Denmark and from Toronto.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 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 Kool Moe Dee to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Robert Hood,
Letta Mbulu,
Donny Hathaway,
Stetsasonic,
Wings,
the Sonics,
New Age Steppers,
The Black Dice,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Arab on Radar,
Television,
The Electric Prunes,
Fatback Band,
Severed Heads,
Soft Machine,
Deepchord,
Saccharine Trust,
Crime,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Radio Birdman,
Procol Harum,
Cameo,
Harpers Bizarre,
Joyce Sims,
The Sonics,
Rod Modell,
Deadbeat,
Mars,
Joe Smooth,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Warsaw,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Slits,
Godley & Creme,
the Human League,
Harry Pussy,
the Soft Cell,
Gerry Rafferty,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lou Reed,
Ice-T,
DNA,
The United States of America,
Niagra,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Vainqueur,
Kenny Larkin,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Y Pants,
Mission of Burma,
Parry Music,
Nico,
The Dead C,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.