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 Solomon Islands and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 David Bowie 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the punk 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 Silicon Teens. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Standells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Trumans Water,
Steve Hackett,
Crispy Ambulance,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rotary Connection,
Andrew Hill,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bronski Beat,
Yellowson,
Eden Ahbez,
Peter and Kerry,
Curtis Mayfield,
Avey Tare,
China Crisis,
The Martian,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Fortunes,
Stetsasonic,
Franke,
Buzzcocks,
Davy DMX,
Todd Terry,
Shoche,
Fela Kuti,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Isaac Hayes,
Electric Prunes,
Rekid,
Traffic Nightmare,
Livin' Joy,
U.S. Maple,
Rhythm & Sound,
Max Romeo,
Moebius,
Rakim,
Sexual Harrassment,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Surgeon,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kayak,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bush Tetras,
The Mojo Men,
Hasil Adkins,
The Fire Engines,
Howard Jones,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Human League,
Theoretical Girls,
Sight & Sound,
Scratch Acid,
Pantaleimon,
Soul Sonic Force,
Nik Kershaw,
ABBA,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Remains,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.