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 Kazakhstan and from Philadelphia.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Hoover to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Anthony Braxton,
EPMD,
Kaleidoscope,
U.S. Maple,
Yaz,
Theoretical Girls,
Flamin' Groovies,
Spandau Ballet,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Joe Finger,
Neu!,
Tubeway Army,
Negative Approach,
Zapp,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eric B and Rakim,
Alphaville,
Audionom,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fat Boys,
Black Pus,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Maleditus Sound,
Drexciya,
Mantronix,
Gang Green,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Piero Umiliani,
Minnie Riperton,
Neil Young,
Aloha Tigers,
Ossler,
Idris Muhammad,
The Velvet Underground,
Ultimate Spinach,
Nils Olav,
Television Personalities,
Subhumans,
Hasil Adkins,
Matthew Halsall,
Avey Tare,
Tres Demented,
Blancmange,
The Seeds,
Hashim,
Bad Manners,
L. Decosne,
Alton Ellis,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Zero Boys,
Judy Mowatt,
Smog,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Maurizio,
Television,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Man Parrish,
Von Mondo,
Cluster,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.