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 Eritrea and from Woodstock.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bologna.
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 linndrum 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 Wally Richardson to the grime 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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Marcia Griffiths,
Flamin' Groovies,
Young Marble Giants,
The Martian,
The Five Americans,
The Modern Lovers,
Lou Christie,
Lower 48,
John Coltrane,
Kayak,
Aloha Tigers,
Sun Ra,
Josef K,
Fat Boys,
Eric Copeland,
The Pop Group,
Tres Demented,
L. Decosne,
Terrestrial Tones,
Vladislav Delay,
Newcleus,
Monolake,
The Fortunes,
Jawbox,
Robert Görl,
The Fall,
the Sonics,
Man Parrish,
Barrington Levy,
The Remains,
The Human League,
Alphaville,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Marvin Gaye,
Minnie Riperton,
The Cure,
E-Dancer,
Nik Kershaw,
James White and The Blacks,
Second Layer,
CMW,
Byron Stingily,
Eli Mardock,
Tears for Fears,
the Association,
Pagans,
Electric Prunes,
Sällskapet,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Television,
In Retrospect,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Quadrant,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Darondo,
Gang Starr,
Jerry's Kids,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pantaleimon,
Deepchord,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.