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 Syria and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Glasgow.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the marimba 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 Sex Pistols to the grunge 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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Leonard Cohen 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 güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Arthur Verocai,
Infiniti,
Radio Birdman,
The Beau Brummels,
Alice Coltrane,
The Dead C,
Camouflage,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Trojans,
The Alarm Clocks,
Henry Cow,
the Sonics,
Crooked Eye,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Joyce Sims,
Anthony Braxton,
Section 25,
The Cowsills,
Jeff Lynne,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Walker Brothers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Black Pus,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Martian,
David McCallum,
The Five Americans,
Barbara Tucker,
Ornette Coleman,
The Stooges,
the Fania All-Stars,
Adolescents,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Star Department,
Cameo,
Fat Boys,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Carl Craig,
A Certain Ratio,
Mr. Review,
The Buckinghams,
Ultravox,
Pantaleimon,
Cheater Slicks,
Mission of Burma,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pet Shop Boys,
Malaria!,
The Sonics,
Y Pants,
The Standells,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ken Boothe,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Loose Ends,
Radiohead,
Sällskapet,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.