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 Angola and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Traffic Nightmare to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
The Wake,
Pagans,
The Cowsills,
Nas,
Janne Schatter,
The Golliwogs,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Dead Boys,
Siglo XX,
The Barracudas,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
PIL,
Minny Pops,
Eric Copeland,
Derrick May,
Slave,
Matthew Halsall,
The Saints,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Yazoo,
The Busters,
Mo-Dettes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Toni Rubio,
The Offenders,
Jeru the Damaja,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Eric B and Rakim,
Matthew Bourne,
Sarah Menescal,
Patti Smith,
Blancmange,
Fear,
Grauzone,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Maleditus Sound,
Television,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tommy Roe,
Inner City,
Jacques Brel,
Shoche,
Josef K,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Tears for Fears,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gang Green,
Popol Vuh,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Anthony Braxton,
Yaz,
The Victims,
Thompson Twins,
The Five Americans,
Scott Walker,
Pere Ubu,
The Happenings,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.