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 Belarus and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Velvet Underground to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Visage,
Bang On A Can,
Vainqueur,
the Human League,
The Barracudas,
Magazine,
the Soft Cell,
Deadbeat,
X-Ray Spex,
The Music Machine,
E-Dancer,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Walker Brothers,
Sandy B,
David Bowie,
John Foxx,
Adolescents,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bill Wells,
Dennis Brown,
Tears for Fears,
Skaos,
Bronski Beat,
Derrick May,
Moebius,
Theoretical Girls,
Freddie Wadling,
Slave,
New York Dolls,
Make Up,
Main Source,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dave Gahan,
In Retrospect,
Roxy Music,
Marshall Jefferson,
T.S.O.L.,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Eve St. Jones,
Sun Ra,
Ronan,
Archie Shepp,
The Moody Blues,
Excepter,
The Blackbyrds,
Supertramp,
Max Romeo,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Blake Baxter,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
the Normal,
Ponytail,
Grauzone,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Cowsills,
The Gap Band,
The Toasters,
The New Christs,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.