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 Panama and from Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Oneida to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C 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?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Flash Fearless,
Matthew Halsall,
Soulsonic Force,
Nas,
the Swans,
Guru Guru,
Hot Snakes,
Pagans,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bill Wells,
The Standells,
Pharoah Sanders,
Desert Stars,
Sun Ra,
D'Angelo,
Y Pants,
Parry Music,
In Retrospect,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Banda Bassotti,
Q65,
Scrapy,
the Association,
the Soft Cell,
The New Christs,
Average White Band,
The Smiths,
Boogie Down Productions,
Erasure,
B.T. Express,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mars,
The Toasters,
Black Sheep,
Scan 7,
Matthew Bourne,
Shoche,
Qualms,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Michelle Simonal,
Flipper,
Angry Samoans,
Lakeside,
Glenn Branca,
Lindisfarne,
Jawbox,
Ponytail,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Joe Smooth,
Sound Behaviour,
Quadrant,
Anakelly,
Lalann,
Bauhaus,
La Düsseldorf,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.