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 Liberia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Adolescents to the techno 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
the Human League,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Names,
Fatback Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pet Shop Boys,
H. Thieme,
Pere Ubu,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Cowsills,
Lower 48,
Barbara Tucker,
Zero Boys,
Chris & Cosey,
Television,
Liliput,
Accadde A,
Amon Düül II,
The Wake,
John Lydon,
Shuggie Otis,
Swans,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Henry Cow,
Mark Hollis,
The Doors,
Gerry Rafferty,
Khruangbin,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Brand Nubian,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Goldenarms,
The Sonics,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Piero Umiliani,
Danielle Patucci,
Fear,
Agent Orange,
Roxy Music,
L. Decosne,
John Cale,
E-Dancer,
Robert Hood,
Animal Collective,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Human League,
The Count Five,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Soul II Soul,
Harry Pussy,
Maleditus Sound,
The Martian,
Kurtis Blow,
Lou Christie,
Siglo XX,
Television Personalities,
Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young.
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.