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 Gabon and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 clarinet 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 Fat Boys to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bauhaus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
DJ Sneak,
Lakeside,
The Misunderstood,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Livin' Joy,
Lower 48,
The Selecter,
Spandau Ballet,
Glenn Branca,
Pierre Henry,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lightning Bolt,
Max Romeo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Dave Gahan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mission of Burma,
New Age Steppers,
Sugar Minott,
Leonard Cohen,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Roxy Music,
Hot Snakes,
Byron Stingily,
Donny Hathaway,
Mo-Dettes,
Sam Rivers,
Arcadia,
Anakelly,
Charles Mingus,
Bobby Byrd,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bang On A Can,
Ossler,
The Gladiators,
Delta 5,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ice-T,
Gastr Del Sol,
Amon Düül,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Fire Engines,
Flash Fearless,
Tommy Roe,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
MC5,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Detroit Cobras,
Joey Negro,
Barrington Levy,
Rites of Spring,
Inner City,
Crispy Ambulance,
Parry Music,
the Sonics,
Arthur Verocai,
Sixth Finger,
Oblivians,
Joe Smooth,
Schoolly D,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Star Department,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.