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 Cuba and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Barry Ungar to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin 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 organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Anthony Braxton,
Angry Samoans,
Dead Boys,
Depeche Mode,
The Last Poets,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Franke,
Sun City Girls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Smiths,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Litter,
China Crisis,
a-ha,
The Barracudas,
Bobby Womack,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Sonics,
Joe Smooth,
Mad Mike,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Eric Dolphy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lou Reed,
Urselle,
Fluxion,
L. Decosne,
Accadde A,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Tears for Fears,
H. Thieme,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Toasters,
Eden Ahbez,
Hashim,
Shuggie Otis,
Stetsasonic,
Arthur Verocai,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Dual Sessions,
Moss Icon,
The Star Department,
Harry Pussy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nik Kershaw,
Yazoo,
Deakin,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Beau Brummels,
Mark Hollis,
the Normal,
Oblivians,
Reagan Youth,
Godley & Creme,
Hasil Adkins,
Malaria!,
The Selecter,
Scan 7,
Black Bananas,
Charles Mingus,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.