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 Kazakhstan and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Outsiders. All the underground hits.
All Ronan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Black Bananas,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Martian,
Whodini,
Peter & Gordon,
The Offenders,
Angry Samoans,
Severed Heads,
Ralphi Rosario,
Con Funk Shun,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jandek,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Skriet,
the Association,
The Five Americans,
Jesper Dahlback,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bill Wells,
The Vogues,
Robert Hood,
PIL,
Fear,
Traffic Nightmare,
Alphaville,
Marcia Griffiths,
Janne Schatter,
The Electric Prunes,
Godley & Creme,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kaleidoscope,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Shuggie Otis,
Neil Young,
Suicide,
Sugar Minott,
Oneida,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sex Pistols,
China Crisis,
Pantaleimon,
Avey Tare,
Juan Atkins,
Fad Gadget,
Symarip,
Lebanon Hanover,
Joensuu 1685,
Porter Ricks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
H. Thieme,
Bobby Womack,
Anthony Braxton,
Connie Case,
JFA,
Lyres,
The Raincoats,
Vainqueur,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.