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 Morocco and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Cybotron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
The Vogues,
F. McDonald,
Eve St. Jones,
Thompson Twins,
A Certain Ratio,
Bad Manners,
Moebius,
Harmonia,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pole,
Wire,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Selecter,
Glenn Branca,
The Slits,
Harpers Bizarre,
Josef K,
Barrington Levy,
In Retrospect,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Essential Logic,
June Days,
The Blues Magoos,
Laurel Aitken,
Sonic Youth,
Electric Prunes,
Pylon,
Thee Headcoats,
Jeff Mills,
Reuben Wilson,
Harry Pussy,
Radio Birdman,
John Cale,
JFA,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sexual Harrassment,
Patti Smith,
Scientists,
Barclay James Harvest,
FM Einheit,
Dead Boys,
The Trojans,
Johnny Clarke,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Visage,
Simply Red,
Hardrive,
Make Up,
Wally Richardson,
Radiohead,
Bobby Sherman,
Mr. Review,
Unrelated Segments,
Ornette Coleman,
Graham Central Station,
The Gun Club,
Ken Boothe,
Negative Approach,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Slackers,
The Dirtbombs,
Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp.
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.