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 Brunei and from Spokane.
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 Mumbai and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 arpeggiator 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 Spoonie Gee to the rap 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer 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 synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Black Flag,
H. Thieme,
The Invisible,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
kango's stein massive,
Bob Dylan,
Livin' Joy,
Black Bananas,
Eli Mardock,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ultravox,
Crash Course in Science,
The Walker Brothers,
Silicon Teens,
Au Pairs,
Sparks,
Cheater Slicks,
The Barracudas,
MDC,
Delon & Dalcan,
Grauzone,
Excepter,
Kurtis Blow,
Massinfluence,
Lucky Dragons,
Fluxion,
Symarip,
Easy Going,
The Searchers,
La Düsseldorf,
Ludus,
Suburban Knight,
Swans,
Joyce Sims,
Steve Hackett,
Bronski Beat,
Sexual Harrassment,
10cc,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Angels of Light,
Cecil Taylor,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Carl Craig,
Gong,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Heaven 17,
Man Parrish,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Cowsills,
Wings,
Avey Tare,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Doors,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Susan Cadogan,
Stockholm Monsters,
Fugazi,
the Normal,
Iggy Pop,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.