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 Mauritania and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Tommy Roe to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Blancmange,
Yaz,
This Heat,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
T.S.O.L.,
Joensuu 1685,
Swell Maps,
Gang Green,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Flamin' Groovies,
Basic Channel,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Connie Case,
John Holt,
Lalann,
The Monochrome Set,
The Misunderstood,
Cheater Slicks,
Zapp,
Lalo Schifrin,
the Soft Cell,
World's Most,
Funky Four + One,
The Slits,
Robert Wyatt,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Fugs,
Brothers Johnson,
David McCallum,
Chris & Cosey,
Gong,
June Days,
Reuben Wilson,
Susan Cadogan,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Black Flag,
Donald Byrd,
Terrestrial Tones,
Essential Logic,
The Knickerbockers,
Duran Duran,
Saccharine Trust,
Kerri Chandler,
Gang of Four,
Toni Rubio,
The New Christs,
Monolake,
Nirvana,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Joy Division,
Lyres,
Sun Ra,
Stiv Bators,
E-Dancer,
Franke,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Fuzztones,
Yellowson,
Procol Harum,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.