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 Montenegro and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 snare 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 Kaleidoscope to the rock 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 The Victims. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Negative Approach,
Gichy Dan,
Piero Umiliani,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Unwound,
Buzzcocks,
Mars,
Tim Buckley,
The Cramps,
48th St. Collective,
The Moleskins,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Cymande,
Severed Heads,
Don Cherry,
Fat Boys,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tres Demented,
8 Eyed Spy,
Glenn Branca,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Arcadia,
Desert Stars,
The Dave Clark Five,
Liliput,
the Swans,
Simply Red,
Slick Rick,
kango's stein massive,
Flash Fearless,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Agent Orange,
Marc Almond,
Fugazi,
Rites of Spring,
David Axelrod,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
T.S.O.L.,
Suburban Knight,
Procol Harum,
The Remains,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Seeds,
Sly & The Family Stone,
MDC,
Supertramp,
Peter and Kerry,
China Crisis,
E-Dancer,
the Fania All-Stars,
10cc,
Funkadelic,
Ultra Naté,
The Fire Engines,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pierre Henry,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Crooked Eye,
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.