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 Belarus and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 theremin 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 Altered Images to the disco 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 The Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skriet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiohead record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Deakin,
The Slackers,
Bobby Byrd,
Stockholm Monsters,
Anthony Braxton,
Fatback Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Donald Byrd,
Andrew Hill,
Pussy Galore,
the Normal,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pole,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kayak,
Spoonie Gee,
Japan,
Radiohead,
Throbbing Gristle,
Masters at Work,
The Motions,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Blues Magoos,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Saints,
Accadde A,
Flamin' Groovies,
La Düsseldorf,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Robert Görl,
MDC,
Blancmange,
The Buckinghams,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pantytec,
The Velvet Underground,
The Kinks,
Stetsasonic,
The Sonics,
Jesper Dahlback,
Susan Cadogan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Names,
Leonard Cohen,
Mary Jane Girls,
a-ha,
Yusef Lateef,
The Beau Brummels,
Tres Demented,
Curtis Mayfield,
Peter and Kerry,
Von Mondo,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Symarip,
B.T. Express,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ken Boothe,
the Soft Cell,
Alice Coltrane,
The Martian,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.