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 Vanuatu and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Raincoats to the punk 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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Zero Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Surgeon,
The Cure,
Glambeats Corp.,
Graham Central Station,
Pussy Galore,
Faraquet,
The Doobie Brothers,
Brand Nubian,
Thee Headcoats,
The Kinks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Isaac Hayes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Tom Boy,
The Sonics,
The Fortunes,
Mad Mike,
The Young Rascals,
Roxette,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Intrusion,
Alton Ellis,
the Sonics,
FM Einheit,
Flipper,
Fela Kuti,
Yazoo,
Kenny Larkin,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Chris & Cosey,
OOIOO,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Soft Machine,
Monks,
Blossom Toes,
Eric Dolphy,
The Divine Comedy,
Wings,
Spandau Ballet,
Oneida,
The Velvet Underground,
Rod Modell,
Pantytec,
DJ Sneak,
Rakim,
the Fania All-Stars,
Erasure,
MDC,
Archie Shepp,
Heaven 17,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Man Parrish,
Pharoah Sanders,
Johnny Osbourne,
E-Dancer,
The Gladiators,
Fad Gadget,
The Angels of Light,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.