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 Saudi Arabia and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 mellotron 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 Johnny Osbourne to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Joensuu 1685 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Beau Brummels,
Bobby Womack,
Talk Talk,
Sparks,
Fela Kuti,
Marmalade,
Eve St. Jones,
The Remains,
Nik Kershaw,
Piero Umiliani,
Ornette Coleman,
Angry Samoans,
Ronnie Foster,
Fatback Band,
The Angels of Light,
The Pretty Things,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Patti Smith,
Sex Pistols,
Ice-T,
Subhumans,
Tears for Fears,
Josef K,
Agitation Free,
Blossom Toes,
Peter & Gordon,
Joe Smooth,
Amon Düül,
The Durutti Column,
The Saints,
Joensuu 1685,
Quando Quango,
Man Parrish,
Negative Approach,
Sällskapet,
Skriet,
The Happenings,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Jesper Dahlback,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cowsills,
Newcleus,
Easy Going,
Aswad,
The Monks,
The Residents,
Ultra Naté,
Nation of Ulysses,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Niagra,
Malaria!,
Grey Daturas,
Jandek,
Hot Snakes,
Sonic Youth,
Eden Ahbez,
The Skatalites,
Y Pants,
Albert Ayler,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.