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 Ethiopia and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the 808 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 Matthew Bourne to the punk 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Ten City,
Matthew Bourne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mission of Burma,
Fad Gadget,
The Fuzztones,
Stiv Bators,
Flamin' Groovies,
Section 25,
Hot Snakes,
The United States of America,
Reagan Youth,
Fat Boys,
Sun Ra,
Niagra,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Malaria!,
Bill Near,
Public Enemy,
The Remains,
Buzzcocks,
Hasil Adkins,
Erykah Badu,
Bang On A Can,
Rekid,
Delon & Dalcan,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ralphi Rosario,
DJ Sneak,
Ronnie Foster,
Isaac Hayes,
Robert Hood,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Arcadia,
Rufus Thomas,
World's Most,
The Grass Roots,
Lightning Bolt,
The Dead C,
The Barracudas,
Glenn Branca,
Oblivians,
The Walker Brothers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Severed Heads,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Marmalade,
Barclay James Harvest,
Man Parrish,
The Trojans,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Toasters,
Delta 5,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Minny Pops,
Shoche,
Chris Corsano,
Faraquet,
Anakelly,
Harpers Bizarre,
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.