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 Uzbekistan and from Lille.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 oboe 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 Subhumans to the grunge 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
the Swans,
Wolf Eyes,
Cluster,
Dennis Brown,
Eddi Front,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Black Dice,
Sandy B,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Mummies,
Alison Limerick,
The Knickerbockers,
Tres Demented,
Bobby Sherman,
JFA,
Pulsallama,
The Searchers,
Juan Atkins,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pharoah Sanders,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Techniques,
Man Eating Sloth,
Zero Boys,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Gap Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
Harmonia,
Crime,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Alarm Clocks,
Spoonie Gee,
The Grass Roots,
The Cramps,
The Zeros,
Make Up,
The Doobie Brothers,
Franke,
Lyres,
Lalo Schifrin,
Easy Going,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
EPMD,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scientists,
Negative Approach,
Fela Kuti,
Cecil Taylor,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Harpers Bizarre,
Hot Snakes,
Popol Vuh,
Jerry's Kids,
Idris Muhammad,
Freddie Wadling,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.