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 Liechtenstein and from Tokyo.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Erasure to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moleskins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
John Cale,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pole,
The New Christs,
Lower 48,
This Heat,
Nation of Ulysses,
Con Funk Shun,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Simply Red,
the Human League,
The Gun Club,
Sandy B,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Index,
Eric Copeland,
The Slackers,
Matthew Halsall,
Glenn Branca,
Quadrant,
Iggy Pop,
The Walker Brothers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
MDC,
Graham Central Station,
Vladislav Delay,
Boredoms,
Aswad,
Talk Talk,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
the Fania All-Stars,
FM Einheit,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Banda Bassotti,
Skriet,
Dual Sessions,
R.M.O.,
Derrick May,
Pantaleimon,
Marvin Gaye,
Bill Near,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gil Scott Heron,
Soft Machine,
A Certain Ratio,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marcia Griffiths,
Parry Music,
Swell Maps,
The Music Machine,
The Divine Comedy,
Cybotron,
Warsaw,
The Techniques,
Flipper,
The Martian,
Arab on Radar,
World's Most,
The Monks,
Essential Logic,
Ultimate Spinach,
Au Pairs,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.