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 Indonesia and from Hong Kong.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Prince Buster to the disco 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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Evens,
B.T. Express,
The New Christs,
The Human League,
Fugazi,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Bar-Kays,
Leonard Cohen,
Ralphi Rosario,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mission of Burma,
Todd Rundgren,
Pere Ubu,
Oneida,
Laurel Aitken,
Accadde A,
Nils Olav,
Ultravox,
James White and The Blacks,
Unrelated Segments,
New Age Steppers,
Henry Cow,
X-Ray Spex,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Royal Trux,
Camouflage,
The Sound,
Sister Nancy,
Judy Mowatt,
The Names,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Slick Rick,
Outsiders,
Stiv Bators,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Robert Wyatt,
Jacob Miller,
The Music Machine,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bobby Womack,
The Residents,
Youth Brigade,
Zero Boys,
Hardrive,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Eli Mardock,
Saccharine Trust,
Cecil Taylor,
Pylon,
The Victims,
Urselle,
Eric Dolphy,
The Martian,
the Human League,
Agent Orange,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tomorrow,
Marine Girls,
Michelle Simonal,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
FM Einheit, FM Einheit, FM Einheit, FM Einheit.
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.