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 Kazakhstan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Nation of Ulysses to the rap 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 Robert Görl. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pylon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Radiopuhelimet,
Agent Orange,
Franke,
Laurel Aitken,
Connie Case,
Peter and Kerry,
T.S.O.L.,
Don Cherry,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Stooges,
Audionom,
Make Up,
Massinfluence,
Josef K,
Junior Murvin,
The Selecter,
The Doobie Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Leonard Cohen,
Y Pants,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Hasil Adkins,
Sandy B,
Accadde A,
The Fuzztones,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Misunderstood,
UT,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pagans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobby Womack,
X-101,
Sparks,
The United States of America,
Jawbox,
Moby Grape,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lalann,
Wire,
Arab on Radar,
JFA,
The Knickerbockers,
The Cure,
The Standells,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gerry Rafferty,
Suburban Knight,
Nick Fraelich,
The Beau Brummels,
Deadbeat,
Porter Ricks,
Bobby Byrd,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Index,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Gun Club,
The Fall,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.