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 Samoa and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Von Mondo to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül II tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
the Slits,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Blackbyrds,
Radiopuhelimet,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tomorrow,
Dorothy Ashby,
Adolescents,
Delon & Dalcan,
Danielle Patucci,
Bang On A Can,
Freddie Wadling,
Basic Channel,
Letta Mbulu,
AZ,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Dark Day,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
PIL,
Pagans,
Bobby Byrd,
The Techniques,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Faraquet,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Frankie Knuckles,
Arthur Verocai,
Hoover,
Glenn Branca,
Darondo,
Jeff Lynne,
Essential Logic,
Leonard Cohen,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Invisible,
Curtis Mayfield,
Popol Vuh,
Gastr Del Sol,
Roxette,
Talk Talk,
Y Pants,
Au Pairs,
Infiniti,
Scrapy,
Tubeway Army,
Scott Walker,
The Velvet Underground,
Isaac Hayes,
Barrington Levy,
Aural Exciters,
Colin Newman,
Jawbox,
Rhythm & Sound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Fugs,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rakim,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.