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 Moldova and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 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 Jeff Mills to the grunge 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Minutemen,
Index,
Youth Brigade,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The New Christs,
The Durutti Column,
The Standells,
Ponytail,
The Modern Lovers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fat Boys,
Liliput,
Adolescents,
Alison Limerick,
Rapeman,
Gang Green,
Shoche,
Throbbing Gristle,
Procol Harum,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
F. McDonald,
World's Most,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cameo,
Kevin Saunderson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Alarm Clocks,
kango's stein massive,
Minnie Riperton,
Ultra Naté,
Amon Düül,
The Human League,
Crash Course in Science,
OOIOO,
Fad Gadget,
Kerri Chandler,
the Soft Cell,
Gerry Rafferty,
Avey Tare,
Lee Hazlewood,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Young Rascals,
Max Romeo,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Steve Hackett,
Harry Pussy,
Archie Shepp,
Reagan Youth,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Evens,
Lungfish,
Jacques Brel,
Wire,
Amon Düül II,
Circle Jerks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.