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 Lebanon and from Seoul.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Outsiders to the rap 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 The Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
The American Breed,
Skarface,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Doors,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Brass Construction,
Stiv Bators,
Cheater Slicks,
Pagans,
Todd Terry,
Andrew Hill,
The Index,
The Beau Brummels,
The Walker Brothers,
Sällskapet,
Pere Ubu,
Rosa Yemen,
Gang Green,
Gong,
Nick Fraelich,
Gabor Szabo,
MC5,
Von Mondo,
La Düsseldorf,
Cybotron,
Camouflage,
In Retrospect,
Franke,
Inner City,
Porter Ricks,
Hot Snakes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
DJ Style,
The Blackbyrds,
Interpol,
Lindisfarne,
Blake Baxter,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Evens,
Radiopuhelimet,
John Foxx,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Smiths,
the Bar-Kays,
Hardrive,
The Victims,
Minutemen,
Jerry's Kids,
Connie Case,
Eric B and Rakim,
Crash Course in Science,
Bad Manners,
Amon Düül,
The Dead C,
Scratch Acid,
John Coltrane,
Second Layer,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jeff Mills,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minnie Riperton,
Wire,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.