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 Guinea-Bissau and from Copenhagen.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 theremin 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 The Detroit Cobras to the jazz 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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alphaville 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
the Bar-Kays,
Rakim,
Crash Course in Science,
Marshall Jefferson,
Deepchord,
Black Moon,
Franke,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Names,
Gastr Del Sol,
Brass Construction,
Au Pairs,
A Certain Ratio,
Alton Ellis,
Juan Atkins,
Black Pus,
Lebanon Hanover,
Brothers Johnson,
Suicide,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rosa Yemen,
The Birthday Party,
Basic Channel,
Con Funk Shun,
Nico,
The Residents,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Dirtbombs,
Delon & Dalcan,
X-Ray Spex,
Howard Jones,
Thee Headcoats,
Sun City Girls,
CMW,
The Human League,
Pantaleimon,
Cal Tjader,
Mantronix,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Second Layer,
The Evens,
Bobby Sherman,
Lower 48,
Joy Division,
Organ,
Fatback Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Motions,
Grandmaster Flash,
Graham Central Station,
Erykah Badu,
Ossler,
The Fugs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Saccharine Trust,
Piero Umiliani,
The Music Machine,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Public Image Ltd.,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.