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 United Kingdom and from Beijing.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 AZ to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Sonic Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pantaleimon,
the Normal,
David Bowie,
Severed Heads,
Qualms,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scion,
Lucky Dragons,
Scrapy,
Newcleus,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Monks,
Roxy Music,
Brass Construction,
Nation of Ulysses,
Aswad,
Thee Headcoats,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
These Immortal Souls,
Anthony Braxton,
Fela Kuti,
The Smoke,
Roxette,
Bluetip,
The Fugs,
Roy Ayers,
Lou Reed,
Inner City,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Techniques,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Angels of Light,
Tom Boy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bronski Beat,
Bang On A Can,
Harry Pussy,
OOIOO,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Mojo Men,
Danielle Patucci,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eden Ahbez,
The United States of America,
Hashim,
Section 25,
Duran Duran,
FM Einheit,
Althea and Donna,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Letta Mbulu,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Detroit Cobras,
Peter & Gordon,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Motions,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.