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 Solomon Islands and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sällskapet 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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Kas Product tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pagans 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Kool Moe Dee,
Accadde A,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Banda Bassotti,
The Fuzztones,
CMW,
Amazonics,
Harry Pussy,
Eve St. Jones,
Masters at Work,
The Tremeloes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Thompson Twins,
L. Decosne,
Supertramp,
Anakelly,
the Slits,
David McCallum,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Godley & Creme,
Robert Hood,
The Count Five,
Sugar Minott,
Rekid,
Donald Byrd,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gichy Dan,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Leaves,
Kayak,
Oneida,
Liliput,
Can,
The Stooges,
Bill Wells,
Wolf Eyes,
Lou Reed,
Das Ding,
the Soft Cell,
Fad Gadget,
Altered Images,
Glambeats Corp.,
Hot Snakes,
Unwound,
Fluxion,
Jacob Miller,
Juan Atkins,
a-ha,
Buzzcocks,
John Holt,
Lightning Bolt,
Q and Not U,
Brass Construction,
The Wake,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tommy Roe,
Black Pus,
John Coltrane,
Minnie Riperton,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sam Rivers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.