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 Sweden and from Woodstock.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Donald Fagen 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 Matthew Bourne to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kinks. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
Faraquet,
Absolute Body Control,
The Angels of Light,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Joe Finger,
Blake Baxter,
David Bowie,
Lou Christie,
Thee Headcoats,
Derrick May,
Desert Stars,
Gang Gang Dance,
Iggy Pop,
Scott Walker,
Sparks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bluetip,
Crooked Eye,
The Gories,
Theoretical Girls,
The Human League,
Underground Resistance,
Anthony Braxton,
Organ,
Country Teasers,
Agent Orange,
Television,
Boredoms,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Saints,
The Fire Engines,
Marc Almond,
Sight & Sound,
The Doors,
Ponytail,
Kayak,
Fear,
Ronnie Foster,
Alice Coltrane,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jeff Mills,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Con Funk Shun,
Deepchord,
Pantaleimon,
The Tremeloes,
Cameo,
Average White Band,
The Happenings,
Gichy Dan,
Laurel Aitken,
Kurtis Blow,
Erykah Badu,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Zapp,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Names,
Royal Trux,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.