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 Serbia and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Organ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
Quantec,
The Flesh Eaters,
Infiniti,
Throbbing Gristle,
Neil Young,
Marmalade,
Girls At Our Best!,
Clear Light,
X-101,
Rekid,
Ponytail,
Amon Düül,
Dave Gahan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sound Behaviour,
Nik Kershaw,
Aswad,
The Real Kids,
Pierre Henry,
The Vogues,
Crooked Eye,
Donald Byrd,
Marc Almond,
Jeff Lynne,
Minutemen,
Connie Case,
Alphaville,
The Techniques,
Swans,
Bob Dylan,
Cluster,
Ituana,
Avey Tare,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sun City Girls,
The Buckinghams,
Main Source,
Mandrill,
Pylon,
The Count Five,
Silicon Teens,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pole,
Moss Icon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Thee Headcoats,
Surgeon,
The Leaves,
Brass Construction,
Saccharine Trust,
Laurel Aitken,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Crash Course in Science,
Maurizio,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Sound,
H. Thieme,
Suicide,
Gong,
KRS-One,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.