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 Bahamas and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Portland.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the guitar 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 Jacques Brel to the disco 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Franke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Yaz,
Josef K,
Fugazi,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Delta 5,
Visage,
Quadrant,
Marine Girls,
Heaven 17,
Nation of Ulysses,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Magma,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Eurythmics,
Albert Ayler,
The Offenders,
Gang of Four,
Slave,
Sparks,
Khruangbin,
Joe Smooth,
Clear Light,
Procol Harum,
Whodini,
Organ,
The Saints,
Fear,
Hot Snakes,
Throbbing Gristle,
FM Einheit,
Henry Cow,
Roxette,
The Durutti Column,
Malaria!,
The Mojo Men,
The Stooges,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ossler,
Motorama,
Matthew Halsall,
Ronnie Foster,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pantytec,
Quando Quango,
Pere Ubu,
Fad Gadget,
Graham Central Station,
Zero Boys,
Nico,
The Gladiators,
Robert Görl,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ice-T,
Trumans Water,
Bush Tetras,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Electric Prunes,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Trojans,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.