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 Tajikistan and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Radio Birdman to the rock 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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every La Düsseldorf 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television,
Jacques Brel,
the Sonics,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Index,
Wally Richardson,
Spandau Ballet,
Deakin,
Skaos,
Sound Behaviour,
JFA,
The Seeds,
Minor Threat,
The Neon Judgement,
Yaz,
John Coltrane,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Searchers,
Sarah Menescal,
Robert Hood,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jeff Mills,
Mr. Review,
Altered Images,
Sight & Sound,
Rufus Thomas,
Deepchord,
Jawbox,
Black Sheep,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Y Pants,
James White and The Blacks,
Stereo Dub,
Absolute Body Control,
Moss Icon,
Urselle,
Wings,
Bobby Byrd,
New York Dolls,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Wolf Eyes,
The Gladiators,
Radiopuhelimet,
Nick Fraelich,
Average White Band,
David McCallum,
Groovy Waters,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Danielle Patucci,
Rotary Connection,
Kevin Saunderson,
Camberwell Now,
Chris Corsano,
Kerri Chandler,
The Dead C,
Bang On A Can,
Godley & Creme,
LL Cool J,
The Remains,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Man Eating Sloth,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.