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 France and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Berlin.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Brooklynites in little jackets
and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered eighties.
But I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge, but I was there.
I was there.
But I was there.
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 1974 at the first Suicide practices in a loft in New York City.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Daft Punk to the rock 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.
I used to work in the record store.
I had everything before anyone.
I was there in the Paradise Garage DJ booth with Larry Levan.
I was there in Jamaica during the great sound clashes.
I woke up naked on the beach in Ibiza in 1988.
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 the Beach Boys.
All the underground hits.
All the Modern Lovers tracks.
I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal Detroit 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator
and are throwing your computer out the window
because you want to make something real.
You want to make a Yaz record.
I hear that you
and your band have sold your guitars
and bought turntables.
I hear that you
and your band have sold your turntables
and bought guitars.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant
than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat, Pere Ubu, Outsiders, Nation of Ulysses, Mars,
The Trojans, The Black Dice, Todd Terry, the Germs, Section 25,
Althea and Donna, Sexual Harrassment, a-ha, Pere Ubu,
Dorothy Ashby, PIL, the Fania All-Stars, the Bar-Kays,
the Human League, the Normal, Lou Reed, Scott Walker,
Monks, Niagra,
Joy Division, Lower 48, the Association, Sun Ra,
Scientists, Royal Trux, 10cc,
Eric B. and Rakim, Index, Basic Channel,
Soulsonic Force ("just hit me"!), Juan Atkins, David Axelrod,
Electric Prunes, Gil! Scott! Heron!, the Slits, Faust,
Mantronix, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Swans, the Soft Cell, the Sonics, the Sonics,
the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.