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 Japan and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Holger Czukay 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 Theoretical Girls 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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ituana,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rod Modell,
Icehouse,
Marmalade,
Fatback Band,
Pet Shop Boys,
Stetsasonic,
The Electric Prunes,
Infiniti,
The Angels of Light,
Albert Ayler,
The Doors,
The Fuzztones,
Bauhaus,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Wings,
The Litter,
Scratch Acid,
cv313,
Hoover,
Man Parrish,
Quando Quango,
Johnny Clarke,
Sonny Sharrock,
Guru Guru,
Cymande,
Magma,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Pop Group,
Kerri Chandler,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ultra Naté,
Davy DMX,
Sun Ra,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Saccharine Trust,
Lucky Dragons,
Laurel Aitken,
AZ,
Scrapy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bob Dylan,
Jawbox,
The Durutti Column,
8 Eyed Spy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Brand Nubian,
Sam Rivers,
Y Pants,
Alton Ellis,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Accadde A,
Television Personalities,
Bill Near,
Al Stewart,
the Sonics,
CMW,
Trumans Water,
The Neon Judgement,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
the Association,
The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department.
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.