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 United States and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 808 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 Nils Olav to the disco 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 The Doors. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Frankie Knuckles,
LL Cool J,
Rufus Thomas,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Urselle,
Kenny Larkin,
Visage,
Ultra Naté,
Trumans Water,
Barbara Tucker,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marcia Griffiths,
Marc Almond,
Maurizio,
FM Einheit,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Idris Muhammad,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
New Order,
MC5,
The Happenings,
Malaria!,
Black Moon,
The Gap Band,
CMW,
The Young Rascals,
The Sound,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Litter,
Rod Modell,
Nico,
Junior Murvin,
Harry Pussy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Graham Central Station,
Radiopuhelimet,
Flamin' Groovies,
Suicide,
Flipper,
Make Up,
John Cale,
E-Dancer,
The Pop Group,
Peter and Kerry,
Anthony Braxton,
Terrestrial Tones,
Roy Ayers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bob Dylan,
Sun Ra,
Robert Wyatt,
The Fuzztones,
Sällskapet,
Stiv Bators,
Thompson Twins,
David Axelrod,
Crispy Ambulance,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.