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 Brazil and from Hong Kong.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ronnie Foster to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Jawbox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
World's Most,
Throbbing Gristle,
Surgeon,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Public Enemy,
Ornette Coleman,
The Sound,
Camberwell Now,
Section 25,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Cure,
The Gun Club,
New Age Steppers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Derrick May,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
June Days,
Bob Dylan,
Ultravox,
Newcleus,
Guru Guru,
Bobby Byrd,
Curtis Mayfield,
Hot Snakes,
Max Romeo,
Dennis Brown,
Janne Schatter,
Gang Gang Dance,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Inner City,
Urselle,
James White and The Blacks,
Popol Vuh,
Neu!,
Grey Daturas,
Ten City,
Laurel Aitken,
the Swans,
K-Klass,
Qualms,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Brand Nubian,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gang of Four,
Eden Ahbez,
Sonic Youth,
MDC,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
the Soft Cell,
Royal Trux,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pulsallama,
H. Thieme,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Yaz,
Franke,
Masters at Work,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lightning Bolt,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.