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 Mozambique and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 guitar 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 Fatback Band to the punk 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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All ABC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Ituana,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Searchers,
Roy Ayers,
Royal Trux,
Camberwell Now,
The Fall,
Electric Prunes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lungfish,
Bauhaus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Moebius,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sex Pistols,
The Standells,
the Sonics,
Albert Ayler,
Scion,
Duran Duran,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Pretty Things,
DNA,
Eric Copeland,
Rites of Spring,
Soulsonic Force,
The Last Poets,
Bluetip,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Althea and Donna,
Index,
Spoonie Gee,
Eurythmics,
The Shadows of Knight,
Niagra,
The Fugs,
The Gladiators,
The Music Machine,
This Heat,
Rufus Thomas,
Andrew Hill,
Thee Headcoats,
Michelle Simonal,
The Kinks,
Rod Modell,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Shuggie Otis,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Wolf Eyes,
The Happenings,
The Knickerbockers,
Crime,
David Bowie,
Dark Day,
The Mummies,
A Flock of Seagulls,
X-101,
Grey Daturas,
Young Marble Giants,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.