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 Papua New Guinea and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 the Soft Cell to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anakelly,
Porter Ricks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Moebius,
The Names,
Scan 7,
Accadde A,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Joensuu 1685,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Eurythmics,
Fugazi,
Sam Rivers,
Minor Threat,
The Real Kids,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lalann,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Evens,
The Pop Group,
Crispy Ambulance,
Malaria!,
Motorama,
Sex Pistols,
the Fania All-Stars,
Connie Case,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Black Dice,
The Flesh Eaters,
Liliput,
Skaos,
Silicon Teens,
The Saints,
The Slits,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Moody Blues,
Heaven 17,
The Blackbyrds,
Frankie Knuckles,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Doors,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bad Manners,
Roy Ayers,
The Kinks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Crooked Eye,
Aswad,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
D'Angelo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lebanon Hanover,
Faust,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Amon Düül,
Khruangbin,
Easy Going,
Nils Olav,
Pylon,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.