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 Mexico and from Hong Kong.
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 Woodstock and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Marcia Griffiths to the funk 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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
Minutemen,
Harmonia,
Subhumans,
Harry Pussy,
The Fall,
Soul II Soul,
Deepchord,
R.M.O.,
Hot Snakes,
Anakelly,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Fire Engines,
Pulsallama,
Mark Hollis,
Terrestrial Tones,
Quando Quango,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Dirtbombs,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Man Parrish,
KRS-One,
Bobby Sherman,
Moby Grape,
The Kinks,
The Skatalites,
Ohio Players,
The Residents,
Newcleus,
a-ha,
The Mojo Men,
Altered Images,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Leaves,
The Golliwogs,
Whodini,
Quadrant,
Ronnie Foster,
Metal Thangz,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Germs,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Television,
Brass Construction,
Pantaleimon,
Second Layer,
Funkadelic,
La Düsseldorf,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Camouflage,
Country Teasers,
Magma,
Bob Dylan,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ultravox,
Guru Guru,
Boredoms,
Henry Cow,
Jacob Miller,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Moebius,
Rites of Spring,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.