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 Australia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Gories to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Royal Trux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
CMW,
Lou Christie,
Mark Hollis,
PIL,
Warsaw,
Goldenarms,
Sun Ra,
48th St. Collective,
Metal Thangz,
Isaac Hayes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rekid,
Kerri Chandler,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Germs,
Das Ding,
Accadde A,
Swell Maps,
These Immortal Souls,
Moebius,
Icehouse,
Excepter,
John Lydon,
Stereo Dub,
Sällskapet,
Nick Fraelich,
The Five Americans,
Spoonie Gee,
Theoretical Girls,
Outsiders,
Quadrant,
The Stooges,
Bobby Womack,
Curtis Mayfield,
Khruangbin,
The Martian,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Searchers,
Spandau Ballet,
Funkadelic,
Radio Birdman,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Hot Snakes,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Human League,
Sam Rivers,
Terrestrial Tones,
ABC,
Tom Boy,
Crash Course in Science,
Todd Rundgren,
Scion,
Hashim,
Eric B and Rakim,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bauhaus,
Chris & Cosey,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.