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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Paris.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 This Heat to the electroclash 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 The Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Suicide,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jandek,
Soft Cell,
The Fugs,
The Tremeloes,
Agitation Free,
The Moleskins,
E-Dancer,
Andrew Hill,
Mo-Dettes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jerry's Kids,
The Durutti Column,
Country Teasers,
The Toasters,
Donald Byrd,
Neu!,
Black Moon,
Guru Guru,
Big Daddy Kane,
La Düsseldorf,
The Invisible,
The Seeds,
Junior Murvin,
Parry Music,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bill Wells,
Angry Samoans,
Bush Tetras,
Marcia Griffiths,
Scratch Acid,
Mantronix,
Vladislav Delay,
Bizarre Inc.,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Offenders,
Radiohead,
The Leaves,
Basic Channel,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Graham Central Station,
Arab on Radar,
Nik Kershaw,
Whodini,
Althea and Donna,
Yusef Lateef,
L. Decosne,
Drexciya,
Byron Stingily,
Leonard Cohen,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Doors,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Victims,
Q and Not U,
Bluetip,
Mark Hollis,
Shuggie Otis,
The Black Dice,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.