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 Micronesia and from Lagos.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Dual Sessions to the electroclash 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All The Divine Comedy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q and Not U,
Neu!,
The Sound,
Minny Pops,
Ultravox,
Swell Maps,
Grey Daturas,
The Wake,
John Holt,
Eve St. Jones,
Robert Wyatt,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Selecter,
The Vogues,
Steve Hackett,
Black Moon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Fugs,
Aural Exciters,
Terry Callier,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bush Tetras,
Ohio Players,
FM Einheit,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Monochrome Set,
Animal Collective,
The Leaves,
Juan Atkins,
Hoover,
Don Cherry,
Wire,
Scion,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Thompson Twins,
X-101,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Livin' Joy,
PIL,
Iggy Pop,
The Monks,
Rotary Connection,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Durutti Column,
Donald Byrd,
Curtis Mayfield,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Techniques,
The Young Rascals,
Jacques Brel,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
OOIOO,
Television,
Radiopuhelimet,
T. Rex,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sixth Finger,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Albert Ayler,
The Mummies,
U.S. Maple,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.