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 Papua New Guinea and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The United States of America to the grunge 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Lungfish,
Metal Thangz,
Gerry Rafferty,
Reagan Youth,
Prince Buster,
Sparks,
Wings,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Monochrome Set,
Crooked Eye,
Amazonics,
Fear,
Visage,
Sugar Minott,
CMW,
Tubeway Army,
D'Angelo,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lee Hazlewood,
Deakin,
Cybotron,
Khruangbin,
Ornette Coleman,
Chris Corsano,
Man Eating Sloth,
Monolake,
Roxette,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Black Pus,
Technova,
Skaos,
Joyce Sims,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Cheater Slicks,
OOIOO,
The Modern Lovers,
Jacques Brel,
The Raincoats,
Jeff Lynne,
Television Personalities,
Maleditus Sound,
Mars,
Neil Young,
T. Rex,
Mr. Review,
Neu!,
AZ,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
DJ Style,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Al Stewart,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ohio Players,
Angry Samoans,
Rotary Connection,
Scion,
Alphaville,
The Searchers,
The Young Rascals,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.