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 Iceland and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the sitar 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 Danielle Patucci to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Busters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Steve Hackett,
Tubeway Army,
Scientists,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Kinks,
Pantytec,
June Days,
Bill Wells,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rekid,
Blossom Toes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Misunderstood,
Tropical Tobacco,
Grey Daturas,
Fluxion,
Silicon Teens,
The Vogues,
Bush Tetras,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Star Department,
Absolute Body Control,
Radio Birdman,
DJ Sneak,
Cymande,
Suicide,
Warren Ellis,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jeff Mills,
Audionom,
the Soft Cell,
kango's stein massive,
Todd Rundgren,
Ronnie Foster,
The Zeros,
Joey Negro,
DJ Style,
Derrick Morgan,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Real Kids,
Rites of Spring,
Cluster,
Vainqueur,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Erasure,
Maurizio,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Can,
The Fuzztones,
Thompson Twins,
Swans,
The Invisible,
Bobby Womack,
Scion,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Urselle,
Curtis Mayfield,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.