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 Mauritius and from Tehran.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Chris Corsano to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lakeside,
Sound Behaviour,
Ultimate Spinach,
Severed Heads,
Faust,
Howard Jones,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eddi Front,
Eli Mardock,
Gerry Rafferty,
Magazine,
The Mummies,
Deepchord,
Scan 7,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Roxy Music,
Matthew Bourne,
The Monks,
Smog,
This Heat,
Tubeway Army,
The Tremeloes,
Yellowson,
Depeche Mode,
The Human League,
Rufus Thomas,
Soft Cell,
The Saints,
Albert Ayler,
Public Enemy,
Bronski Beat,
Ralphi Rosario,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Barracudas,
Liliput,
Mad Mike,
Sandy B,
Althea and Donna,
Angry Samoans,
Visage,
The Walker Brothers,
Neil Young,
The Leaves,
World's Most,
Juan Atkins,
Excepter,
Jacques Brel,
ABBA,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Litter,
Main Source,
John Cale,
U.S. Maple,
Rapeman,
The Gladiators,
Qualms,
Hasil Adkins,
Vainqueur,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.