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 Ghana and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 marimba 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 B.T. Express to the punk 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 Jerry's Kids. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
The Selecter,
Jacob Miller,
Bill Near,
Aaron Thompson,
Hasil Adkins,
Pharoah Sanders,
New Age Steppers,
Pantaleimon,
The Dead C,
Pussy Galore,
Marine Girls,
Todd Terry,
Deakin,
Idris Muhammad,
The Index,
Franke,
Traffic Nightmare,
Tomorrow,
The Leaves,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Severed Heads,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lucky Dragons,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Flamin' Groovies,
DJ Style,
Simply Red,
Niagra,
Animal Collective,
Donny Hathaway,
Letta Mbulu,
Hardrive,
Eurythmics,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sun City Girls,
The Divine Comedy,
Howard Jones,
Agent Orange,
Japan,
Reagan Youth,
Aswad,
Unwound,
Soft Machine,
Main Source,
The Gladiators,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Alton Ellis,
Guru Guru,
Half Japanese,
Second Layer,
Don Cherry,
Brass Construction,
Accadde A,
Soul II Soul,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Yazoo,
The Moleskins,
John Lydon,
Ultravox,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Crooked Eye,
Radiohead,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.