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 Panama and from London.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Junior Murvin to the rock 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 Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moebius,
The Star Department,
Eddi Front,
Oneida,
Crispian St. Peters,
Swell Maps,
The Mojo Men,
Marvin Gaye,
Amon Düül,
Tears for Fears,
Erasure,
Dead Boys,
Tubeway Army,
Country Teasers,
Second Layer,
Mad Mike,
The Dirtbombs,
K-Klass,
Maurizio,
The Fall,
The Standells,
Donald Byrd,
Patti Smith,
Laurel Aitken,
Scrapy,
Goldenarms,
Judy Mowatt,
The Angels of Light,
Index,
Marc Almond,
Bauhaus,
Pet Shop Boys,
Isaac Hayes,
Saccharine Trust,
Swans,
Simply Red,
The Fuzztones,
Bobby Byrd,
Rod Modell,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
cv313,
ABC,
Faraquet,
Bang On A Can,
Cecil Taylor,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Human League,
Marshall Jefferson,
The New Christs,
The Music Machine,
Barrington Levy,
Ohio Players,
Sound Behaviour,
Kool Moe Dee,
London Community Gospel Choir,
These Immortal Souls,
Pierre Henry,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gang Starr,
The Invisible,
Johnny Clarke,
Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler.
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.