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 Burundi and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the electroclash 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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Popol Vuh,
The Star Department,
Drexciya,
Brothers Johnson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
New York Dolls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Banda Bassotti,
The Fall,
Harmonia,
The Misunderstood,
Grandmaster Flash,
Nico,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Royal Trux,
Dual Sessions,
The Last Poets,
Bob Dylan,
Y Pants,
Los Fastidios,
Boredoms,
The Angels of Light,
Echospace,
Aural Exciters,
Deepchord,
Soulsonic Force,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Flipper,
the Normal,
The Trojans,
Adolescents,
Half Japanese,
The Saints,
The Music Machine,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Connie Case,
Agitation Free,
The Mummies,
Nik Kershaw,
The Birthday Party,
Throbbing Gristle,
Motorama,
Tim Buckley,
Monks,
Sun City Girls,
Scion,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Fuzztones,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scrapy,
X-Ray Spex,
Mars,
Rufus Thomas,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Wings,
Robert Wyatt,
La Düsseldorf,
Scratch Acid,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.