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 Nigeria and from Mexico City.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin 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 Pere Ubu to the crunk 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 Flash Fearless. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
Public Enemy,
The Sound,
Bobby Sherman,
Angry Samoans,
Sight & Sound,
Gang Gang Dance,
Joyce Sims,
The Residents,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sonny Sharrock,
New Order,
Sällskapet,
Chrome,
Severed Heads,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Blues Magoos,
The Beau Brummels,
The Cosmic Jokers,
David McCallum,
Vladislav Delay,
Bauhaus,
Circle Jerks,
The Count Five,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eurythmics,
Royal Trux,
Y Pants,
Zapp,
DJ Style,
Morten Harket,
James White and The Blacks,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Tremeloes,
the Association,
The Cure,
Slave,
Oblivians,
Black Sheep,
John Lydon,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Searchers,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Monks,
Ultimate Spinach,
PIL,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Josef K,
Quadrant,
Marshall Jefferson,
New York Dolls,
The Red Krayola,
Franke,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Davy DMX,
Q65,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.