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 Philippines and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 synthesizer 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 Crispian St. Peters to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Soulsonic Force,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Iggy Pop,
Dave Gahan,
Dead Boys,
Icehouse,
Tomorrow,
The Durutti Column,
The Doors,
Idris Muhammad,
Drexciya,
Panda Bear,
Eric B and Rakim,
Colin Newman,
Kerrie Biddell,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bill Wells,
Maurizio,
Eric Dolphy,
Andrew Hill,
Sällskapet,
Lou Christie,
Audionom,
Sam Rivers,
Basic Channel,
Todd Terry,
Neu!,
Jacques Brel,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fat Boys,
H. Thieme,
Black Moon,
Wally Richardson,
Scion,
Boz Scaggs,
Albert Ayler,
The Victims,
Half Japanese,
Sandy B,
The Standells,
Thee Headcoats,
The Move,
the Swans,
Pulsallama,
X-102,
The J.B.'s,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Angels of Light,
F. McDonald,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Adolescents,
The Dead C,
Chrome,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Crispian St. Peters,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Techniques,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
UT,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.