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 Brazil and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Johannesburg.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Black Pus to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiohead record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Steve Hackett,
Neil Young,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Half Japanese,
The Flesh Eaters,
Desert Stars,
Mark Hollis,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pantaleimon,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gastr Del Sol,
Matthew Bourne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alison Limerick,
Gabor Szabo,
Janne Schatter,
Tommy Roe,
Throbbing Gristle,
Reuben Wilson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Crime,
LL Cool J,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Skaos,
DNA,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Arthur Verocai,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
DJ Style,
Quando Quango,
UT,
Nik Kershaw,
Bootsy Collins,
Fela Kuti,
Khruangbin,
Traffic Nightmare,
Livin' Joy,
Deepchord,
Icehouse,
The Cramps,
Soft Cell,
World's Most,
Gang of Four,
Flash Fearless,
The Seeds,
Section 25,
Eddi Front,
Metal Thangz,
Radiohead,
The Saints,
The Invisible,
Agitation Free,
Scion,
Public Enemy,
Qualms,
E-Dancer,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gun Club,
Electric Prunes,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.