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 Sweden and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 clarinet 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 Heaven 17 to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Monks,
The Mummies,
Moss Icon,
Joensuu 1685,
the Germs,
Mantronix,
David McCallum,
Angry Samoans,
Ultra Naté,
Gang Green,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lou Reed,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Scan 7,
John Holt,
Eddi Front,
PIL,
Basic Channel,
Mad Mike,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gabor Szabo,
Groovy Waters,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Michelle Simonal,
Bush Tetras,
The Move,
Brass Construction,
The Pop Group,
Sam Rivers,
Blossom Toes,
Gang of Four,
The Detroit Cobras,
Newcleus,
The Gories,
Neu!,
D'Angelo,
The Human League,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Velvet Underground,
Funkadelic,
Sister Nancy,
Mary Jane Girls,
B.T. Express,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bill Near,
Pet Shop Boys,
Fluxion,
Dennis Brown,
Quadrant,
Trumans Water,
Henry Cow,
Skaos,
Barbara Tucker,
Althea and Donna,
Roxy Music,
Marine Girls,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wolf Eyes,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.