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 Andorra and from Madrid.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Kevin Saunderson to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siglo XX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Yazoo,
The Dirtbombs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Alarm Clocks,
The American Breed,
Sun Ra,
Marc Almond,
The Moleskins,
DJ Sneak,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fatback Band,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rites of Spring,
Avey Tare,
Minor Threat,
Black Sheep,
Suicide,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Slick Rick,
The Slackers,
The Real Kids,
Arab on Radar,
Hoover,
Black Pus,
DJ Style,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Joey Negro,
The Smoke,
John Holt,
Monolake,
The Electric Prunes,
B.T. Express,
Duran Duran,
Quadrant,
Charles Mingus,
Scion,
Gang Green,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Talk Talk,
The Martian,
the Normal,
The Fire Engines,
John Coltrane,
Sällskapet,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Mary Jane Girls,
Theoretical Girls,
Half Japanese,
Angry Samoans,
Massinfluence,
The Barracudas,
Chris Corsano,
The Walker Brothers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Average White Band,
Camberwell Now,
Yaz,
Warsaw,
The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight.
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.