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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Agent Orange to the jazz 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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shoche record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Con Funk Shun,
Brothers Johnson,
Lucky Dragons,
Man Parrish,
Reuben Wilson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Guru Guru,
The Cowsills,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lightning Bolt,
Fat Boys,
The American Breed,
Kerrie Biddell,
Throbbing Gristle,
Man Eating Sloth,
Khruangbin,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Peter and Kerry,
Silicon Teens,
June Days,
Pole,
Massinfluence,
Sixth Finger,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
B.T. Express,
Cecil Taylor,
Slick Rick,
Grey Daturas,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Bananas,
Unwound,
Minutemen,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Black Sheep,
Wings,
This Heat,
D'Angelo,
Graham Central Station,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sam Rivers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Dennis Brown,
Moby Grape,
Maurizio,
Aural Exciters,
KRS-One,
Procol Harum,
the Bar-Kays,
the Germs,
Interpol,
Don Cherry,
The Remains,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mark Hollis,
Tres Demented,
The Real Kids,
Sonny Sharrock,
Technova,
Aaron Thompson,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ossler,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.