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 Maldives and from Sao Paulo.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sonics to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide 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 an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cal Tjader,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Byron Stingily,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Star Department,
Black Sheep,
Radiopuhelimet,
Average White Band,
Iggy Pop,
Kool Moe Dee,
Angry Samoans,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Seeds,
the Association,
Johnny Osbourne,
Monks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ponytail,
Hoover,
Marc Almond,
Rakim,
Absolute Body Control,
Eli Mardock,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pulsallama,
Funkadelic,
Porter Ricks,
Masters at Work,
Yazoo,
Ludus,
Yellowson,
Soulsonic Force,
Al Stewart,
Peter & Gordon,
Ronan,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Roxy Music,
Unwound,
Barrington Levy,
Fluxion,
X-101,
Deadbeat,
F. McDonald,
Soul II Soul,
Electric Prunes,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
ABC,
Junior Murvin,
Quantec,
Graham Central Station,
Connie Case,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tim Buckley,
Television Personalities,
Dave Gahan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Barry Ungar,
The Toasters,
Ronnie Foster,
The Associates,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.