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 Benin and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mexico City.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the 808 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 Kerrie Biddell to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All Lalann tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Fania All-Stars,
Radio Birdman,
Cal Tjader,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Last Poets,
Matthew Bourne,
The Star Department,
One Last Wish,
Warren Ellis,
Bill Near,
The Slackers,
Rites of Spring,
Yellowson,
June of 44,
Make Up,
The Golliwogs,
Audionom,
Con Funk Shun,
Essential Logic,
Pantytec,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Angry Samoans,
Steve Hackett,
The Gun Club,
John Cale,
Joey Negro,
T.S.O.L.,
Procol Harum,
Saccharine Trust,
B.T. Express,
Robert Wyatt,
Q65,
the Sonics,
Judy Mowatt,
Scion,
Echospace,
Bizarre Inc.,
Delon & Dalcan,
Excepter,
H. Thieme,
Arthur Verocai,
Lakeside,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The United States of America,
Big Daddy Kane,
Brothers Johnson,
Sound Behaviour,
The Raincoats,
The Martian,
Inner City,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Rotary Connection,
Erasure,
Ten City,
The Doors,
The Skatalites,
Whodini,
The Toasters,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.