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 Uganda and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Lou Reed 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 Stetsasonic to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Franke,
Colin Newman,
B.T. Express,
In Retrospect,
Chris & Cosey,
The Dead C,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Cramps,
Youth Brigade,
Kaleidoscope,
Ash Ra Tempel,
This Heat,
Crooked Eye,
Donald Byrd,
Television,
The Litter,
Marc Almond,
Dave Gahan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bootsy Collins,
The Five Americans,
Pierre Henry,
Crash Course in Science,
The Dave Clark Five,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cymande,
R.M.O.,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Altered Images,
ABC,
The Monks,
John Cale,
Marmalade,
Skarface,
Sällskapet,
John Holt,
Symarip,
Andrew Hill,
Moby Grape,
Swans,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
K-Klass,
Mars,
Angry Samoans,
The Saints,
Moss Icon,
Magma,
Rekid,
Buzzcocks,
Sarah Menescal,
Rosa Yemen,
Dual Sessions,
Jacques Brel,
Surgeon,
Cal Tjader,
Accadde A,
The Wake,
The Raincoats,
Kerrie Biddell,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.