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 Guinea-Bissau and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gladiators to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Susan Cadogan,
Rapeman,
Faust,
Bauhaus,
Desert Stars,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Joyce Sims,
The Doobie Brothers,
Barclay James Harvest,
Robert Görl,
Sonny Sharrock,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Minny Pops,
Man Eating Sloth,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
48th St. Collective,
K-Klass,
Minor Threat,
Moss Icon,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Chris Corsano,
Josef K,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Todd Rundgren,
Icehouse,
Cecil Taylor,
The Durutti Column,
Kerri Chandler,
The Kinks,
Donald Byrd,
New Order,
Frankie Knuckles,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cymande,
Jeru the Damaja,
Severed Heads,
Nirvana,
Shoche,
Bobby Hutcherson,
John Holt,
Y Pants,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Black Bananas,
the Association,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pantaleimon,
The Neon Judgement,
Anakelly,
Tubeway Army,
Soft Machine,
Tom Boy,
Yusef Lateef,
New York Dolls,
Peter and Kerry,
Agitation Free,
Arab on Radar,
Black Moon,
Animal Collective,
Al Stewart,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.