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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar 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 Tom Boy to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Warren Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Mr. Review,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bluetip,
Tres Demented,
L. Decosne,
Rhythm & Sound,
The United States of America,
The Happenings,
Ossler,
Pussy Galore,
K-Klass,
Amon Düül,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Walker Brothers,
Warren Ellis,
ABC,
Lightning Bolt,
Eve St. Jones,
Vladislav Delay,
Judy Mowatt,
Sonic Youth,
Neil Young,
Kaleidoscope,
June Days,
Technova,
The American Breed,
Henry Cow,
Silicon Teens,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ice-T,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scan 7,
Zapp,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Fall,
Gang Starr,
The Victims,
Agent Orange,
Duran Duran,
Cecil Taylor,
Marvin Gaye,
Essential Logic,
Bush Tetras,
Sugar Minott,
Joey Negro,
Bobby Byrd,
Aaron Thompson,
Funkadelic,
The Zeros,
John Holt,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rosa Yemen,
The Music Machine,
Robert Görl,
Absolute Body Control,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.