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 Ireland and from Seoul.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Madrid.
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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Alison Limerick to the rock 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cosmic Jokers 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joey Negro record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Blancmange,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Last Poets,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eric Dolphy,
The Trojans,
Bill Wells,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tom Boy,
Kurtis Blow,
Connie Case,
Dave Gahan,
Soft Cell,
Mantronix,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Swans,
ABBA,
Roxy Music,
The Saints,
The Grass Roots,
PIL,
Charles Mingus,
The Litter,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Count Five,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Thompson Twins,
June Days,
Judy Mowatt,
Scott Walker,
Funky Four + One,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Kinks,
Pantytec,
Traffic Nightmare,
Urselle,
Amazonics,
Susan Cadogan,
Jacques Brel,
Eurythmics,
Rotary Connection,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Eric Copeland,
Sun City Girls,
The Happenings,
Newcleus,
Avey Tare,
Barbara Tucker,
The Dirtbombs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bob Dylan,
The Golliwogs,
Pagans,
Y Pants,
Pussy Galore,
Cecil Taylor,
Essential Logic, Essential Logic, Essential Logic, Essential Logic.
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.