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 Honduras and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 sitar 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Groovy Waters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Happenings,
Althea and Donna,
The Last Poets,
Heaven 17,
Oblivians,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Brothers Johnson,
The Gladiators,
Q and Not U,
Lakeside,
Country Teasers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Index,
Steve Hackett,
Liliput,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Essential Logic,
Whodini,
The Moody Blues,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mantronix,
The Durutti Column,
The Young Rascals,
The Golliwogs,
The Modern Lovers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Boredoms,
Lightning Bolt,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sparks,
Mr. Review,
The Move,
The Red Krayola,
Howard Jones,
The Techniques,
Cheater Slicks,
Crash Course in Science,
Tom Boy,
Nik Kershaw,
Lalann,
Skaos,
Mad Mike,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Slave,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rotary Connection,
David Axelrod,
the Germs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Evens,
Jeru the Damaja,
Harry Pussy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bang On A Can,
These Immortal Souls,
the Normal,
Terry Callier,
The Cowsills,
John Cale,
Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes.
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.