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 Maldives and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Man Eating Sloth to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Niagra,
Rapeman,
Joensuu 1685,
Scrapy,
Scratch Acid,
Audionom,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Terry Callier,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Arcadia,
Freddie Wadling,
The Beau Brummels,
Blake Baxter,
Anthony Braxton,
Avey Tare,
Minny Pops,
10cc,
Rites of Spring,
The Cure,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gabor Szabo,
Dawn Penn,
The Divine Comedy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Searchers,
Sam Rivers,
Reagan Youth,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Barrington Levy,
Tears for Fears,
Gastr Del Sol,
Minutemen,
This Heat,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mad Mike,
The Smiths,
Susan Cadogan,
Yellowson,
Mantronix,
The New Christs,
The J.B.'s,
The Techniques,
New Age Steppers,
Eddi Front,
Sällskapet,
Quando Quango,
OOIOO,
Bobby Womack,
Mars,
Icehouse,
The Fugs,
Fela Kuti,
Trumans Water,
Aloha Tigers,
Carl Craig,
Ornette Coleman,
Al Stewart,
The Index,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Technova,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.