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 Palau and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Mexico City.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Wolf Eyes to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
The Standells,
Todd Terry,
The Motions,
MDC,
8 Eyed Spy,
DJ Sneak,
Anthony Braxton,
Von Mondo,
Byron Stingily,
The Fortunes,
Mars,
The Techniques,
Wire,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Electric Prunes,
La Düsseldorf,
Derrick Morgan,
Half Japanese,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Peter and Kerry,
Cybotron,
Harmonia,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Fat Boys,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Reuben Wilson,
Ituana,
The Gladiators,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Vogues,
Eric B and Rakim,
Donald Byrd,
T. Rex,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Seeds,
Smog,
ABBA,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Wolf Eyes,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Sound Behaviour,
10cc,
Joensuu 1685,
The New Christs,
Jacques Brel,
Procol Harum,
Minnie Riperton,
the Soft Cell,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mad Mike,
Shuggie Otis,
Godley & Creme,
Flipper,
Duran Duran,
Scan 7,
Warsaw,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Average White Band,
Negative Approach,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.