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 Oman and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Divine Comedy to the dance 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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erykah Badu,
Lungfish,
Eric B and Rakim,
Judy Mowatt,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rosa Yemen,
Maleditus Sound,
Ronnie Foster,
The Golliwogs,
Pantytec,
The Tremeloes,
Babytalk,
The Seeds,
Brand Nubian,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Bar-Kays,
The Electric Prunes,
Little Man,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Los Fastidios,
Sun Ra,
Eric Dolphy,
Delta 5,
Bobby Sherman,
the Swans,
The Mummies,
The Monochrome Set,
Black Sheep,
Liliput,
Fluxion,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Depeche Mode,
the Slits,
The Walker Brothers,
Symarip,
Surgeon,
Minny Pops,
Gang Green,
Amon Düül,
The Dirtbombs,
Anthony Braxton,
the Human League,
Sixth Finger,
Tomorrow,
The Five Americans,
Monolake,
Ken Boothe,
LL Cool J,
The Trojans,
World's Most,
Idris Muhammad,
X-Ray Spex,
Urselle,
The Shadows of Knight,
Schoolly D,
Joy Division,
Con Funk Shun,
Kerrie Biddell,
Archie Shepp,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Derrick Morgan,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.