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 Belize and from New York.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Johannesburg.
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 spring reverb 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 Radio Birdman to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Dead C,
DJ Style,
The Pretty Things,
Tropical Tobacco,
UT,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Dirtbombs,
Jesper Dahlback,
Glambeats Corp.,
Q and Not U,
JFA,
Henry Cow,
Spoonie Gee,
Davy DMX,
The Electric Prunes,
The Last Poets,
Kool Moe Dee,
Symarip,
Sight & Sound,
The Velvet Underground,
Visage,
Brick,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sex Pistols,
Mad Mike,
EPMD,
Amon Düül,
The Residents,
Negative Approach,
The Remains,
a-ha,
Ice-T,
Kerrie Biddell,
Second Layer,
Pussy Galore,
Excepter,
Gang of Four,
the Sonics,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Neu!,
Robert Görl,
X-102,
John Cale,
Buzzcocks,
The United States of America,
China Crisis,
Bill Wells,
Lungfish,
Roxy Music,
The Slackers,
ABC,
John Coltrane,
Ponytail,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Carl Craig,
Marmalade,
Lucky Dragons,
Kurtis Blow,
Monolake,
Gastr Del Sol,
The American Breed,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.