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 Burkina and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the disco 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 Be Bop Deluxe. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Leonard Cohen,
The Red Krayola,
Eric B and Rakim,
K-Klass,
Arcadia,
John Foxx,
Tres Demented,
The Barracudas,
Althea and Donna,
JFA,
Royal Trux,
The Golliwogs,
Sister Nancy,
Agent Orange,
Von Mondo,
Malaria!,
Bill Wells,
The Divine Comedy,
Matthew Halsall,
The Wake,
Jesper Dahlback,
Tommy Roe,
Joensuu 1685,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ken Boothe,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Electric Prunes,
Animal Collective,
Derrick May,
Livin' Joy,
Excepter,
Banda Bassotti,
Donald Byrd,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Zero Boys,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Intrusion,
John Holt,
Godley & Creme,
Monolake,
Lungfish,
Talk Talk,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pulsallama,
Idris Muhammad,
the Slits,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Count Five,
Severed Heads,
Laurel Aitken,
Minutemen,
Second Layer,
Gregory Isaacs,
Big Daddy Kane,
La Düsseldorf,
The United States of America,
Robert Hood,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.