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 Israel and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Make Up to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Jeff Lynne. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Neu!,
Lucky Dragons,
Pussy Galore,
Arab on Radar,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
New Age Steppers,
Monolake,
Swans,
Grey Daturas,
Neil Young,
Tim Buckley,
Swell Maps,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Wings,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Raincoats,
Moss Icon,
Popol Vuh,
Lightning Bolt,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jacob Miller,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Tubeway Army,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pylon,
Radiopuhelimet,
New Order,
The Names,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Busters,
Joyce Sims,
Radio Birdman,
Moby Grape,
Frankie Knuckles,
Johnny Osbourne,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lou Reed,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Junior Murvin,
Banda Bassotti,
The Gun Club,
Lindisfarne,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Porter Ricks,
The Modern Lovers,
Henry Cow,
Index,
Massinfluence,
The Last Poets,
Brothers Johnson,
John Foxx,
Crash Course in Science,
Tomorrow,
Terry Callier,
Crooked Eye,
The Techniques,
Gang Starr,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.