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 Micronesia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 mellotron 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 Roger Hodgson to the punk 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 Cluster. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Throbbing Gristle,
Robert Hood,
Black Flag,
DJ Style,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Monolake,
Thompson Twins,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Con Funk Shun,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Little Man,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Young Rascals,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wolf Eyes,
La Düsseldorf,
Vainqueur,
Nils Olav,
This Heat,
Maleditus Sound,
Lakeside,
Liliput,
Arab on Radar,
Tears for Fears,
Sonny Sharrock,
Oneida,
The Standells,
Derrick May,
Susan Cadogan,
Darondo,
Symarip,
Yazoo,
Boredoms,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Camouflage,
Patti Smith,
Minutemen,
a-ha,
The Offenders,
Roxette,
EPMD,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cluster,
Aaron Thompson,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Moleskins,
Sun Ra,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fluxion,
Marshall Jefferson,
Loose Ends,
The Electric Prunes,
Eric Copeland,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Spandau Ballet,
The Gladiators,
Sällskapet,
Matthew Halsall,
Easy Going,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.