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 Laos and from Cairo.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 snare 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Echospace 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 crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Stereo Dub,
Ken Boothe,
The Dirtbombs,
David Axelrod,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Gap Band,
The Standells,
Soul Sonic Force,
Monks,
Howard Jones,
Skriet,
The Star Department,
Marine Girls,
Alice Coltrane,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Buzzcocks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Human League,
Janne Schatter,
Moss Icon,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
R.M.O.,
Drive Like Jehu,
John Coltrane,
Cameo,
Laurel Aitken,
The Five Americans,
Suicide,
Joe Smooth,
Jeru the Damaja,
Delta 5,
The Toasters,
The Index,
Joe Finger,
Underground Resistance,
Quadrant,
Brothers Johnson,
Index,
The Divine Comedy,
Bang On A Can,
Oneida,
Hot Snakes,
Pantaleimon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang Green,
Rapeman,
Tubeway Army,
Barbara Tucker,
Moebius,
Godley & Creme,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gang of Four,
Basic Channel,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Neon Judgement,
Dawn Penn,
Lalo Schifrin,
Newcleus,
Gichy Dan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Khruangbin,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.