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 Costa Rica and from Philadelphia.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 spring reverb 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 Piero Umiliani to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
The Fall,
Toni Rubio,
Eden Ahbez,
The Smiths,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Toasters,
In Retrospect,
Scan 7,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Evens,
Kenny Larkin,
Iggy Pop,
One Last Wish,
John Holt,
Nico,
Moby Grape,
Model 500,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dorothy Ashby,
Organ,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lindisfarne,
Wasted Youth,
The Music Machine,
Grey Daturas,
X-Ray Spex,
Stereo Dub,
Eyeless In Gaza,
K-Klass,
Saccharine Trust,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Blackbyrds,
Skriet,
Man Parrish,
The Monochrome Set,
Angry Samoans,
The Dirtbombs,
Altered Images,
Crash Course in Science,
Juan Atkins,
Pylon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
ABC,
Carl Craig,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
8 Eyed Spy,
Michelle Simonal,
Mark Hollis,
Scott Walker,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Flash Fearless,
The New Christs,
The Vogues,
Harmonia,
Chris & Cosey,
Funky Four + One,
Audionom,
Blossom Toes,
Agitation Free,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.