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 Georgia and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the punk 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 The Victims. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Teasers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Siglo XX,
the Fania All-Stars,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Terry Callier,
Franke,
Black Bananas,
U.S. Maple,
Ornette Coleman,
Livin' Joy,
Sun City Girls,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Suicide,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Soft Cell,
Hashim,
Kayak,
The Human League,
Bobby Byrd,
Monolake,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
MDC,
The Doors,
Spoonie Gee,
Lou Christie,
Lower 48,
Mr. Review,
Bill Near,
Peter & Gordon,
The Modern Lovers,
Alton Ellis,
LL Cool J,
Lindisfarne,
ABBA,
Tres Demented,
Royal Trux,
The Trojans,
Cluster,
The United States of America,
Bauhaus,
The Dead C,
Jandek,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Velvet Underground,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Loose Ends,
The Sonics,
Neu!,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Normal,
T. Rex,
Japan,
Eric B and Rakim,
Eric Copeland,
Don Cherry,
Black Sheep,
Davy DMX,
Ituana,
Qualms,
Swans,
Procol Harum,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.