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 Swaziland and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Circle Jerks to the jazz 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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Susan Cadogan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
The Black Dice,
F. McDonald,
Suburban Knight,
the Slits,
the Soft Cell,
Sexual Harrassment,
Audionom,
Bill Near,
Urselle,
The Cure,
Bronski Beat,
KRS-One,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mo-Dettes,
The Standells,
Derrick Morgan,
Sun City Girls,
Althea and Donna,
Boogie Down Productions,
John Coltrane,
Angry Samoans,
Godley & Creme,
Agitation Free,
Mandrill,
The Fortunes,
FM Einheit,
Crash Course in Science,
Simply Red,
Alice Coltrane,
Thompson Twins,
The Vogues,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Danielle Patucci,
Pere Ubu,
Radiopuhelimet,
Loose Ends,
The Cowsills,
Harry Pussy,
Von Mondo,
Howard Jones,
Malaria!,
Piero Umiliani,
Black Bananas,
Black Flag,
John Holt,
The Names,
Hasil Adkins,
Ken Boothe,
Soft Machine,
Y Pants,
Banda Bassotti,
Nation of Ulysses,
kango's stein massive,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kayak,
Dawn Penn,
Sandy B,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.