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 Paraguay and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the grunge 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Faust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
The Last Poets,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kerri Chandler,
Infiniti,
Henry Cow,
Jeff Mills,
John Coltrane,
The Barracudas,
Wings,
Quando Quango,
Dorothy Ashby,
R.M.O.,
Boredoms,
Niagra,
Susan Cadogan,
Peter and Kerry,
Pulsallama,
Rod Modell,
Amon Düül II,
Newcleus,
Sam Rivers,
Japan,
Sarah Menescal,
The Gladiators,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Maleditus Sound,
Anakelly,
Angry Samoans,
Bluetip,
The American Breed,
Avey Tare,
Scion,
Babytalk,
Isaac Hayes,
Bronski Beat,
Erasure,
Organ,
Josef K,
The Associates,
The Flesh Eaters,
Junior Murvin,
Black Moon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lower 48,
X-Ray Spex,
Prince Buster,
Parry Music,
Intrusion,
Das Ding,
Tom Boy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Procol Harum,
Schoolly D,
Ultravox,
Wire,
Matthew Halsall,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.