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 Kiribati and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 F. McDonald 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gang Starr,
Cal Tjader,
Quantec,
Amazonics,
Jacques Brel,
Mark Hollis,
Babytalk,
The Star Department,
Moby Grape,
La Düsseldorf,
Jandek,
Severed Heads,
Symarip,
The Selecter,
Y Pants,
X-Ray Spex,
Marvin Gaye,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Angry Samoans,
Rapeman,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rakim,
Piero Umiliani,
Panda Bear,
Fat Boys,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pylon,
Sex Pistols,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bobby Womack,
Eric Dolphy,
the Bar-Kays,
Wire,
Harry Pussy,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fortunes,
Mr. Review,
Alton Ellis,
The Slits,
Warsaw,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lou Christie,
The Slackers,
Jawbox,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Doors,
Eve St. Jones,
Agent Orange,
Connie Case,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Glenn Branca,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Radiohead,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
LL Cool J,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Average White Band,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.