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 Seychelles and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Rekid to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Public Enemy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
La Düsseldorf,
Lyres,
The Modern Lovers,
Hardrive,
Sister Nancy,
Arab on Radar,
Ohio Players,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Infiniti,
Camberwell Now,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
E-Dancer,
The Gladiators,
Cheater Slicks,
Little Man,
Mars,
Bizarre Inc.,
Reagan Youth,
Black Bananas,
Faust,
The Gap Band,
Peter and Kerry,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Connie Case,
Don Cherry,
Parry Music,
The Slackers,
Funkadelic,
Heaven 17,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Five Americans,
Kas Product,
Minnie Riperton,
The Blues Magoos,
Crime,
DNA,
Gabor Szabo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Blackbyrds,
The Young Rascals,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Radiopuhelimet,
Yellowson,
Sam Rivers,
Electric Prunes,
Swans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Vladislav Delay,
Eric Copeland,
Yaz,
Tubeway Army,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Misunderstood,
D'Angelo,
Kool Moe Dee,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.