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 Ethiopia and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Barrington Levy to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
The Busters,
Television,
The Evens,
The Monochrome Set,
The Dirtbombs,
Newcleus,
Bill Wells,
L. Decosne,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Wasted Youth,
Faust,
Peter and Kerry,
Gabor Szabo,
The Knickerbockers,
The Selecter,
The Birthday Party,
The Real Kids,
Con Funk Shun,
Pylon,
The Star Department,
Don Cherry,
Radiohead,
Joey Negro,
The Seeds,
Oneida,
Neu!,
Agent Orange,
The Doors,
The Pretty Things,
Quando Quango,
Piero Umiliani,
Brothers Johnson,
CMW,
Crime,
Black Flag,
the Fania All-Stars,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cluster,
Ultravox,
Sister Nancy,
Monolake,
Icehouse,
Grandmaster Flash,
Robert Hood,
Clear Light,
Infiniti,
Second Layer,
Vladislav Delay,
Terrestrial Tones,
Subhumans,
Danielle Patucci,
The Gap Band,
Scott Walker,
Little Man,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Slackers,
Sight & Sound,
Arab on Radar,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.