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 Liberia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 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 EPMD to the grunge 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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blossom Toes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Pussy Galore,
June Days,
Inner City,
The Index,
Lucky Dragons,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bobby Byrd,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Das Ding,
The Dead C,
Ossler,
Talk Talk,
Albert Ayler,
Accadde A,
Gichy Dan,
Qualms,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Grauzone,
The Move,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Motorama,
Ronan,
David Bowie,
The Red Krayola,
The Alarm Clocks,
Maleditus Sound,
ABBA,
Con Funk Shun,
Juan Atkins,
Bauhaus,
Young Marble Giants,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Shuggie Otis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kurtis Blow,
Gabor Szabo,
These Immortal Souls,
Shoche,
Main Source,
Joey Negro,
Don Cherry,
The Skatalites,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Anthony Braxton,
Deakin,
Stereo Dub,
Dawn Penn,
Q and Not U,
Hasil Adkins,
The Fire Engines,
Yusef Lateef,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Zapp,
Gong,
Graham Central Station,
Pierre Henry,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Soft Cell,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.