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 Korea North and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Audionom,
Skaos,
Bob Dylan,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
U.S. Maple,
The United States of America,
the Soft Cell,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ronan,
Cluster,
Aswad,
10cc,
Sound Behaviour,
the Swans,
Moby Grape,
Black Pus,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Rod Modell,
Wings,
Dennis Brown,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Nirvana,
The Knickerbockers,
Marmalade,
Pantaleimon,
Dual Sessions,
The Gories,
Reuben Wilson,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Blackbyrds,
Gabor Szabo,
Pussy Galore,
Gang Gang Dance,
Groovy Waters,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Lucky Dragons,
F. McDonald,
EPMD,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ituana,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gang Starr,
Curtis Mayfield,
Drive Like Jehu,
Radio Birdman,
the Association,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Neu!,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Moody Blues,
Boz Scaggs,
Ohio Players,
Alice Coltrane,
Con Funk Shun,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Moleskins,
Howard Jones,
D'Angelo,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.