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 Andorra and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Joensuu 1685 to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Scrapy. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Althea and Donna,
Piero Umiliani,
The Last Poets,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Harry Pussy,
Slave,
Warsaw,
Technova,
Soft Machine,
Popol Vuh,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kaleidoscope,
The Real Kids,
Sarah Menescal,
the Human League,
Sparks,
Neil Young,
Danielle Patucci,
A Certain Ratio,
Accadde A,
Prince Buster,
The Invisible,
Tomorrow,
Minor Threat,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Joy Division,
Crispian St. Peters,
D'Angelo,
Swell Maps,
Lyres,
Cymande,
Outsiders,
The Stooges,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Anakelly,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ultravox,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Schoolly D,
Ponytail,
Swans,
Rotary Connection,
Das Ding,
the Fania All-Stars,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Rosa Yemen,
Theoretical Girls,
MDC,
Alison Limerick,
Slick Rick,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sam Rivers,
Matthew Halsall,
Freddie Wadling,
KRS-One,
Siglo XX,
Khruangbin,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.