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 Rwanda and from Sao Paulo.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Martian to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Tommy Roe. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soul II Soul record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Bobby Sherman,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sonny Sharrock,
Skarface,
Television Personalities,
Bobby Byrd,
Graham Central Station,
Nas,
Suburban Knight,
CMW,
Absolute Body Control,
Wire,
Babytalk,
Jerry's Kids,
Goldenarms,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Boredoms,
Soulsonic Force,
The Cure,
Joe Finger,
D'Angelo,
Youth Brigade,
Sixth Finger,
Guru Guru,
The Neon Judgement,
Agent Orange,
Moby Grape,
Robert Hood,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Moebius,
John Holt,
Cheater Slicks,
Harmonia,
Average White Band,
Blake Baxter,
Gang Starr,
Franke,
Sister Nancy,
Jeff Mills,
Shoche,
Tim Buckley,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Marcia Griffiths,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Doors,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rosa Yemen,
Dave Gahan,
Maleditus Sound,
Sex Pistols,
Roxy Music,
Organ,
Thee Headcoats,
Simply Red,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Gun Club,
Clear Light,
the Germs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.