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 Zambia and from Lyon.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
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 Crispian St. Peters to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
Reuben Wilson,
Wings,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
a-ha,
Oblivians,
The Tremeloes,
Young Marble Giants,
Neu!,
Chris & Cosey,
Bad Manners,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Howard Jones,
Avey Tare,
Jeff Mills,
Minor Threat,
Big Daddy Kane,
Piero Umiliani,
Bobby Byrd,
Alphaville,
Donny Hathaway,
Flipper,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Slave,
Nik Kershaw,
Magma,
Swans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jandek,
Robert Hood,
Von Mondo,
Spoonie Gee,
MC5,
The Blues Magoos,
Joey Negro,
Boredoms,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Fugs,
Marmalade,
Black Moon,
Surgeon,
U.S. Maple,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marcia Griffiths,
Moss Icon,
Soft Cell,
the Germs,
The Modern Lovers,
Yazoo,
Bauhaus,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Iggy Pop,
Fatback Band,
The Moody Blues,
Bobby Womack,
Al Stewart,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.