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 Seychelles and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Ash Ra Tempel to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
The Trojans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Metal Thangz,
The Fall,
Bluetip,
The Martian,
Severed Heads,
Chrome,
Television Personalities,
The Toasters,
Wolf Eyes,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Can,
The Mojo Men,
Duran Duran,
MC5,
Todd Terry,
The Blackbyrds,
Derrick May,
Average White Band,
Minny Pops,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Beau Brummels,
Terry Callier,
Radiopuhelimet,
Piero Umiliani,
Procol Harum,
Country Teasers,
Amon Düül II,
Sandy B,
Tommy Roe,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Modern Lovers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Minor Threat,
The Monks,
The Blues Magoos,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Henry Cow,
Cymande,
Crash Course in Science,
John Coltrane,
The Selecter,
The Zeros,
Tomorrow,
Robert Hood,
Michelle Simonal,
Suicide,
Loose Ends,
Rod Modell,
Roy Ayers,
The Knickerbockers,
June Days,
Intrusion,
the Swans,
Scion,
Eve St. Jones,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.