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 Suriname and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 chamberlin 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 Bob Dylan to the rap 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Althea and Donna,
Mandrill,
David Bowie,
Harry Pussy,
Motorama,
Theoretical Girls,
Stockholm Monsters,
Crime,
Don Cherry,
Colin Newman,
Goldenarms,
the Swans,
Anthony Braxton,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Flipper,
Eurythmics,
Au Pairs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Dirtbombs,
The Sound,
Shuggie Otis,
Aswad,
Gang of Four,
Main Source,
Popol Vuh,
Malaria!,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Chris Corsano,
Sparks,
Model 500,
David Axelrod,
Johnny Clarke,
Prince Buster,
Gregory Isaacs,
Delon & Dalcan,
Subhumans,
Young Marble Giants,
Make Up,
Average White Band,
Intrusion,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Todd Terry,
Jacques Brel,
Half Japanese,
Moebius,
X-102,
Blake Baxter,
Fat Boys,
Icehouse,
La Düsseldorf,
Television Personalities,
Cal Tjader,
Joe Finger,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bob Dylan,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Donald Byrd,
Sam Rivers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.