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 Oman and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 DJ Style. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 güiro and an organ 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 theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Monks,
Maurizio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
New Age Steppers,
Nick Fraelich,
Colin Newman,
Crispian St. Peters,
E-Dancer,
Cluster,
Alice Coltrane,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Joensuu 1685,
Los Fastidios,
David Bowie,
Joey Negro,
Flash Fearless,
Severed Heads,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Zeros,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Gun Club,
Jeff Mills,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Jacques Brel,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
U.S. Maple,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Supertramp,
Sex Pistols,
The Angels of Light,
EPMD,
Dorothy Ashby,
Mission of Burma,
Siglo XX,
Alton Ellis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Skarface,
Public Enemy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sarah Menescal,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ornette Coleman,
Black Moon,
Jawbox,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jacob Miller,
Symarip,
Boogie Down Productions,
Andrew Hill,
Idris Muhammad,
Lalann,
John Foxx,
Wings,
Yusef Lateef,
Negative Approach,
John Lydon,
Arthur Verocai,
Groovy Waters,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Freddie Wadling,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.