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 Congo and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Johannesburg.
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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Jimmy McGriff to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Jesus and Mary Chain 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
X-Ray Spex,
Kurtis Blow,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lou Reed,
Maleditus Sound,
Deadbeat,
James White and The Blacks,
Royal Trux,
Peter and Kerry,
EPMD,
Electric Prunes,
Slave,
Anakelly,
Bobby Sherman,
Alphaville,
Excepter,
Nirvana,
Niagra,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Fugs,
Darondo,
World's Most,
the Swans,
Reuben Wilson,
The Tremeloes,
Alison Limerick,
Neu!,
Joy Division,
Bootsy Collins,
The Gladiators,
The J.B.'s,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eric Dolphy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Doors,
Flipper,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Moleskins,
Babytalk,
the Slits,
The Names,
Don Cherry,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Smoke,
Black Sheep,
Fugazi,
Magma,
These Immortal Souls,
A Certain Ratio,
Mr. Review,
Kool Moe Dee,
Patti Smith,
Lower 48,
Symarip,
Eden Ahbez,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.