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 Peru and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 X-101 to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
CMW,
Eddi Front,
Pharoah Sanders,
New York Dolls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Smog,
The Techniques,
Cameo,
The Golliwogs,
John Lydon,
Eli Mardock,
Marine Girls,
Nation of Ulysses,
Suburban Knight,
Neu!,
The Grass Roots,
Scion,
Pantytec,
Q and Not U,
Kayak,
Jacques Brel,
Zero Boys,
Matthew Halsall,
Erykah Badu,
In Retrospect,
Desert Stars,
The Gladiators,
MDC,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dennis Brown,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Metal Thangz,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bob Dylan,
James White and The Blacks,
Vladislav Delay,
Deepchord,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Detroit Cobras,
Groovy Waters,
Television,
T. Rex,
Bill Near,
Skarface,
Ossler,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jandek,
the Association,
The Toasters,
Johnny Osbourne,
La Düsseldorf,
Nils Olav,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Soul Sonic Force,
Blake Baxter,
The Angels of Light,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.