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 Afghanistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Trojans to the techno 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 The Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Q and Not U tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiopuhelimet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Make Up,
Whodini,
Mantronix,
Siglo XX,
U.S. Maple,
Cameo,
The Angels of Light,
Schoolly D,
The Human League,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Icehouse,
The Shadows of Knight,
Thee Headcoats,
Chris Corsano,
Dave Gahan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rakim,
Audionom,
Q and Not U,
Archie Shepp,
Delon & Dalcan,
Vladislav Delay,
Pierre Henry,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ultra Naté,
K-Klass,
Accadde A,
The New Christs,
Cal Tjader,
Kas Product,
Jesper Dahlback,
AZ,
Scan 7,
Nils Olav,
David Bowie,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Barry Ungar,
Arcadia,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Neu!,
Jimmy McGriff,
DJ Sneak,
The Moody Blues,
Oblivians,
The Dirtbombs,
48th St. Collective,
Q65,
The Stooges,
Camouflage,
the Fania All-Stars,
Boogie Down Productions,
Zapp,
Colin Newman,
Pantytec,
Yaz,
Lindisfarne,
Ralphi Rosario,
Terry Callier,
Agent Orange,
Scott Walker,
Ornette Coleman,
Eve St. Jones,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.