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 Papua New Guinea and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 linndrum 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the disco 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 the Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Robert Hood,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Jacques Brel,
Groovy Waters,
The Sound,
The Pretty Things,
Kevin Saunderson,
Intrusion,
Sam Rivers,
Minutemen,
Das Ding,
The Fire Engines,
Don Cherry,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cheater Slicks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Matthew Halsall,
Rosa Yemen,
48th St. Collective,
Livin' Joy,
Arab on Radar,
Prince Buster,
Bobby Byrd,
the Association,
L. Decosne,
The Index,
Harmonia,
Godley & Creme,
a-ha,
Amazonics,
MDC,
Erykah Badu,
Ossler,
Danielle Patucci,
Electric Prunes,
The Offenders,
Soul II Soul,
The Buckinghams,
The Stooges,
Nick Fraelich,
The Remains,
Funkadelic,
Wolf Eyes,
Dawn Penn,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Suburban Knight,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Gun Club,
ABBA,
Adolescents,
Excepter,
Sexual Harrassment,
Susan Cadogan,
the Sonics,
Maleditus Sound,
Desert Stars,
Popol Vuh,
Grey Daturas,
Television Personalities,
Tubeway Army,
Colin Newman,
Harry Pussy,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.