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 Nigeria and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Donald Byrd to the disco 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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Wings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rotary Connection 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Soulsonic Force,
Robert Hood,
Bob Dylan,
Robert Görl,
Mr. Review,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dark Day,
June of 44,
Cecil Taylor,
Motorama,
The Pretty Things,
The Smoke,
Matthew Halsall,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Visage,
Don Cherry,
Beasts of Bourbon,
T. Rex,
Agent Orange,
Flipper,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Underground Resistance,
Lindisfarne,
DJ Sneak,
cv313,
The Mummies,
Fugazi,
Scientists,
Young Marble Giants,
MC5,
Jacob Miller,
Black Flag,
The Angels of Light,
The Human League,
Popol Vuh,
Das Ding,
Boz Scaggs,
Electric Prunes,
The Seeds,
Thee Headcoats,
Technova,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Loose Ends,
Spandau Ballet,
Gang Gang Dance,
T.S.O.L.,
Pantytec,
Boredoms,
the Sonics,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Banda Bassotti,
Sun Ra,
The Wake,
Sixth Finger,
The Neon Judgement,
Harry Pussy,
Ponytail,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dual Sessions,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.