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 Seychelles and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 organ 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 Pagans to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Michelle Simonal,
Amon Düül,
Mars,
Hoover,
Eden Ahbez,
One Last Wish,
Yellowson,
Rufus Thomas,
T. Rex,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fat Boys,
DNA,
Kerri Chandler,
Ice-T,
Terry Callier,
Funky Four + One,
Arthur Verocai,
Barclay James Harvest,
Au Pairs,
Stetsasonic,
Ossler,
The Selecter,
Yazoo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Deadbeat,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lou Reed,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Mojo Men,
Qualms,
The Happenings,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Susan Cadogan,
World's Most,
The Gun Club,
Excepter,
T.S.O.L.,
Kas Product,
The Last Poets,
Von Mondo,
Pylon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gang Green,
The Barracudas,
The Knickerbockers,
Danielle Patucci,
Popol Vuh,
Black Pus,
Moebius,
Gong,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lalann,
U.S. Maple,
The Toasters,
CMW,
Tubeway Army,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.