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 Turkey and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 guitar 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 Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moebius,
The Alarm Clocks,
ABC,
The Divine Comedy,
The Star Department,
Crooked Eye,
The Red Krayola,
Chris & Cosey,
Blossom Toes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Last Poets,
T.S.O.L.,
Hot Snakes,
Josef K,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sister Nancy,
The Human League,
Magazine,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rakim,
Duran Duran,
Hashim,
Main Source,
Byron Stingily,
Theoretical Girls,
Amazonics,
Motorama,
The Litter,
Wasted Youth,
The Cure,
Iggy Pop,
Gabor Szabo,
Cecil Taylor,
Spandau Ballet,
Thompson Twins,
Tres Demented,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
David Bowie,
Echospace,
Colin Newman,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
kango's stein massive,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Infiniti,
Ultravox,
Chrome,
Todd Terry,
Funkadelic,
Neil Young,
The Five Americans,
The Count Five,
the Bar-Kays,
Derrick Morgan,
Magma,
Q65,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
FM Einheit,
Talk Talk,
Fluxion,
Section 25,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth.
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.