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 Djibouti and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 arpeggiator 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 ABC. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Porter Ricks,
Kenny Larkin,
Leonard Cohen,
The Martian,
Oneida,
Gastr Del Sol,
Max Romeo,
Audionom,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Dawn Penn,
Jesper Dahlback,
Radio Birdman,
Todd Rundgren,
One Last Wish,
DJ Sneak,
Hardrive,
The Flesh Eaters,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Durutti Column,
Brass Construction,
Bob Dylan,
The Music Machine,
June of 44,
Avey Tare,
Reuben Wilson,
Youth Brigade,
Severed Heads,
Tom Boy,
Interpol,
Soul Sonic Force,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Accadde A,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bush Tetras,
Rod Modell,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Fela Kuti,
Juan Atkins,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rekid,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Clear Light,
Crispy Ambulance,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Byron Stingily,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The New Christs,
The Blackbyrds,
Camouflage,
Jandek,
Howard Jones,
Yusef Lateef,
Flipper,
Lou Christie,
Isaac Hayes,
Nation of Ulysses,
Matthew Halsall,
Agitation Free,
Carl Craig,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.