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 Malta and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro 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 Animal Collective to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
Buzzcocks,
The Mojo Men,
Jerry's Kids,
Can,
Flipper,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Slits,
Rekid,
The Smiths,
Lyres,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Connie Case,
Eyeless In Gaza,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sun Ra,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Soul II Soul,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Whodini,
Cal Tjader,
Sarah Menescal,
Alice Coltrane,
Supertramp,
Sight & Sound,
Bootsy Collins,
Panda Bear,
Mantronix,
Q65,
Yaz,
Hardrive,
Camberwell Now,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bob Dylan,
Aloha Tigers,
The Red Krayola,
Pagans,
Aaron Thompson,
Shuggie Otis,
The J.B.'s,
A Certain Ratio,
Livin' Joy,
Grandmaster Flash,
Anthony Braxton,
Skarface,
The Durutti Column,
Albert Ayler,
Bang On A Can,
Scan 7,
The Offenders,
Marvin Gaye,
Rites of Spring,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ohio Players,
Marine Girls,
The Names,
John Cale,
The Black Dice,
Brass Construction,
Tears for Fears,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.