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 Eritrea and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All The Skatalites tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Half Japanese,
Tom Boy,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Buckinghams,
Barrington Levy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Fela Kuti,
Youth Brigade,
Tommy Roe,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pulsallama,
Eric Copeland,
Sarah Menescal,
The Beau Brummels,
Sixth Finger,
Rod Modell,
U.S. Maple,
Magma,
The Neon Judgement,
Jesper Dahlback,
T.S.O.L.,
Intrusion,
Amazonics,
Fat Boys,
Neil Young,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
JFA,
Sister Nancy,
Interpol,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sandy B,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Roxette,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bootsy Collins,
Public Enemy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Crime,
Scratch Acid,
The Monks,
Stockholm Monsters,
Wally Richardson,
Gang of Four,
Wire,
Marmalade,
Underground Resistance,
KRS-One,
Yazoo,
Negative Approach,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Brick,
Derrick May,
Yusef Lateef,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.