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 the UAE and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Angels of Light to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Jandek. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Urselle,
The Fall,
Harry Pussy,
Erykah Badu,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kaleidoscope,
Letta Mbulu,
Lakeside,
Sister Nancy,
Arthur Verocai,
The Seeds,
Robert Görl,
Roxette,
Joe Finger,
Neil Young,
Basic Channel,
Lucky Dragons,
Amon Düül,
Wings,
Robert Hood,
Hoover,
D'Angelo,
The Birthday Party,
Motorama,
Sex Pistols,
DNA,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lebanon Hanover,
Brothers Johnson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Harpers Bizarre,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ludus,
James White and The Blacks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Silicon Teens,
Gang Green,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kayak,
Stockholm Monsters,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Loose Ends,
Funkadelic,
Delon & Dalcan,
Angry Samoans,
The Smiths,
Jacques Brel,
Flipper,
Gastr Del Sol,
Los Fastidios,
Bill Near,
the Soft Cell,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Dave Gahan,
Bobby Byrd,
Crispian St. Peters,
Alison Limerick,
The Victims,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Walker Brothers,
Jeff Mills,
Gil Scott Heron,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.