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 Sri Lanka and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Al Stewart to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
The Smoke,
Ituana,
The Alarm Clocks,
Derrick May,
Roger Hodgson,
Byron Stingily,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Blancmange,
Althea and Donna,
Wasted Youth,
The Knickerbockers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bob Dylan,
Wire,
The Buckinghams,
Brass Construction,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eddi Front,
The Toasters,
Skaos,
Black Moon,
T. Rex,
Bill Wells,
Sister Nancy,
Max Romeo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Y Pants,
Lakeside,
Swell Maps,
Robert Hood,
Cybotron,
Au Pairs,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Can,
Eden Ahbez,
Harry Pussy,
Moebius,
Sparks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Talk Talk,
Nick Fraelich,
the Association,
Fat Boys,
The Mojo Men,
Dual Sessions,
Panda Bear,
Soft Cell,
June of 44,
Jawbox,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cymande,
Roxy Music,
Toni Rubio,
Kenny Larkin,
Arcadia,
Cheater Slicks,
Barry Ungar,
Dark Day,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Smog,
The Black Dice,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.