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 Philippines and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Excepter. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Fear,
The Knickerbockers,
Sonic Youth,
Gabor Szabo,
The Martian,
The Blackbyrds,
Skarface,
KRS-One,
Peter & Gordon,
the Swans,
Metal Thangz,
Outsiders,
Skaos,
Barry Ungar,
The Wake,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jandek,
Q65,
the Bar-Kays,
The Victims,
Drexciya,
Buzzcocks,
Eddi Front,
The Smoke,
Tres Demented,
Eric B and Rakim,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lucky Dragons,
Stockholm Monsters,
Tommy Roe,
Pierre Henry,
Camouflage,
Roger Hodgson,
Fugazi,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ten City,
Shoche,
Excepter,
Nas,
Moby Grape,
Arab on Radar,
The Fall,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Wire,
The Stooges,
John Holt,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ken Boothe,
James White and The Blacks,
Radio Birdman,
Aswad,
Sonny Sharrock,
Camberwell Now,
Avey Tare,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Television,
Popol Vuh,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.