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 Cameroon and from New York.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Mark Hollis to the rap 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 Ash Ra Tempel. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
Cheater Slicks,
Eric Dolphy,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Modern Lovers,
June Days,
The Standells,
The Trojans,
These Immortal Souls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Don Cherry,
The Remains,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Joensuu 1685,
June of 44,
Shoche,
Mo-Dettes,
Delta 5,
Soul II Soul,
Erasure,
Archie Shepp,
Bob Dylan,
Josef K,
Sex Pistols,
Camberwell Now,
Bluetip,
The Martian,
The Moleskins,
The Cowsills,
Neu!,
Harpers Bizarre,
Motorama,
Nick Fraelich,
Pharoah Sanders,
Tim Buckley,
Marshall Jefferson,
Reagan Youth,
Sexual Harrassment,
Barbara Tucker,
Jacob Miller,
Joey Negro,
Model 500,
Unrelated Segments,
Alison Limerick,
Kayak,
Quando Quango,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kerrie Biddell,
Visage,
Charles Mingus,
Franke,
Fear,
Lalann,
Khruangbin,
The Motions,
Subhumans,
The Human League,
Jesper Dahlback,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.