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 Korea South and from Lagos.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 theremin 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 Vladislav Delay to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Radiohead. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
AZ,
Ponytail,
Joy Division,
48th St. Collective,
Youth Brigade,
Ultra Naté,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Neu!,
Aural Exciters,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pharoah Sanders,
E-Dancer,
This Heat,
Lower 48,
Stereo Dub,
Eli Mardock,
Harmonia,
Guru Guru,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Wally Richardson,
Steve Hackett,
Depeche Mode,
The Leaves,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Doors,
Harpers Bizarre,
Unwound,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Desert Stars,
The Mojo Men,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Martian,
The Techniques,
Matthew Halsall,
Fatback Band,
Sparks,
The Evens,
Q65,
The Motions,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ornette Coleman,
Masters at Work,
Zero Boys,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Soft Machine,
the Swans,
Eve St. Jones,
Sixth Finger,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lightning Bolt,
Fela Kuti,
New York Dolls,
Alice Coltrane,
Cheater Slicks,
X-102,
Nirvana,
Max Romeo,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.