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 Botswana and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 X-Ray Spex to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soul II Soul 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oblivians,
Scientists,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Babytalk,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Joe Finger,
Brand Nubian,
Erykah Badu,
Susan Cadogan,
Carl Craig,
OOIOO,
The Techniques,
Pere Ubu,
Pussy Galore,
Cameo,
Visage,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Howard Jones,
Bizarre Inc.,
Yellowson,
Suicide,
Marc Almond,
Brick,
Brothers Johnson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Walker Brothers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
H. Thieme,
Cluster,
The Dirtbombs,
Bauhaus,
The Dead C,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Tomorrow,
Mad Mike,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Monks,
Zapp,
Blossom Toes,
Sun City Girls,
Easy Going,
The Last Poets,
Clear Light,
Cybotron,
Rites of Spring,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Depeche Mode,
Cecil Taylor,
8 Eyed Spy,
The United States of America,
The Neon Judgement,
Flipper,
Prince Buster,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sound Behaviour,
Ludus,
Gichy Dan,
Bush Tetras,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.