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 Djibouti and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 clarinet 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 Soft Cell to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro 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 arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Shoche,
Cameo,
Delon & Dalcan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Real Kids,
The Dirtbombs,
Bobby Sherman,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
China Crisis,
T. Rex,
Quadrant,
Popol Vuh,
Scan 7,
Minnie Riperton,
Lower 48,
Marvin Gaye,
The Modern Lovers,
Joy Division,
Stetsasonic,
Adolescents,
Chris Corsano,
The Martian,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gregory Isaacs,
Arthur Verocai,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kurtis Blow,
Altered Images,
Magma,
Gang Green,
The Doors,
ABC,
The Human League,
Ken Boothe,
Sound Behaviour,
Tubeway Army,
Animal Collective,
Half Japanese,
Harpers Bizarre,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rakim,
The New Christs,
R.M.O.,
Arcadia,
New Age Steppers,
The Red Krayola,
Minutemen,
Quantec,
Alice Coltrane,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Mummies,
Yaz,
The Black Dice,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ponytail,
Masters at Work,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Todd Terry,
Swell Maps,
Aloha Tigers,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.