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 Suriname and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 mellotron 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 David Bowie to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Procol Harum,
Joy Division,
Liliput,
Kerrie Biddell,
X-102,
Wire,
Bauhaus,
Roger Hodgson,
Theoretical Girls,
Simply Red,
Skriet,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
David Axelrod,
Brass Construction,
Carl Craig,
Max Romeo,
Eden Ahbez,
Youth Brigade,
Robert Hood,
Popol Vuh,
Byron Stingily,
The Star Department,
Accadde A,
The Fuzztones,
The Flesh Eaters,
Newcleus,
ABC,
Stereo Dub,
Nirvana,
Scratch Acid,
Agent Orange,
The Gun Club,
Radio Birdman,
Kerri Chandler,
Minnie Riperton,
Siglo XX,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Unrelated Segments,
Reagan Youth,
Arab on Radar,
Gerry Rafferty,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Toasters,
Hoover,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Iggy Pop,
The Fire Engines,
Shoche,
Marshall Jefferson,
Boredoms,
Panda Bear,
The Birthday Party,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Con Funk Shun,
Throbbing Gristle,
Maleditus Sound,
Soul Sonic Force,
Terrestrial Tones,
One Last Wish,
Funky Four + One,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.