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 Czech Republic and from Glasgow.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Kenny Larkin to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sarah Menescal,
The Sound,
New York Dolls,
Babytalk,
Gong,
Kaleidoscope,
Nas,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Letta Mbulu,
Nik Kershaw,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Nation of Ulysses,
Negative Approach,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rufus Thomas,
Susan Cadogan,
The Fire Engines,
Grey Daturas,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kerri Chandler,
Parry Music,
Sparks,
Todd Terry,
Sight & Sound,
Anthony Braxton,
Ultimate Spinach,
Camouflage,
Livin' Joy,
Radiopuhelimet,
Barry Ungar,
Sun Ra,
DJ Style,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Wally Richardson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Shoche,
The Slits,
Pere Ubu,
Con Funk Shun,
Blossom Toes,
Funkadelic,
Can,
Liliput,
Wolf Eyes,
Jandek,
The Saints,
The United States of America,
The Litter,
Icehouse,
Shuggie Otis,
The Leaves,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Monochrome Set,
The Beau Brummels,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ultravox,
The Cramps,
Subhumans,
Juan Atkins,
Metal Thangz,
Y Pants,
Barbara Tucker,
Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force.
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.