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 Nauru and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Radio Birdman to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 FM Einheit. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Henry Cow,
Wasted Youth,
John Lydon,
B.T. Express,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Icehouse,
Junior Murvin,
Avey Tare,
Scientists,
Country Teasers,
The United States of America,
MC5,
Yusef Lateef,
Pierre Henry,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Traffic Nightmare,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Piero Umiliani,
the Association,
Tomorrow,
The Wake,
AZ,
Goldenarms,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Angry Samoans,
Reuben Wilson,
The Five Americans,
The Fire Engines,
The Busters,
The Move,
Rosa Yemen,
The Raincoats,
Pantaleimon,
Royal Trux,
Bad Manners,
Slick Rick,
Freddie Wadling,
The Slackers,
The Fortunes,
Amon Düül II,
Iggy Pop,
The Human League,
Fluxion,
John Cale,
Television,
Delta 5,
Kas Product,
Interpol,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gabor Szabo,
The Cramps,
The Gories,
X-101,
Sonic Youth,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lungfish,
Sun City Girls,
Stiv Bators,
Jacques Brel,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.