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 Belgium and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 guitar 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the rock 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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül II tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Radio Birdman,
The Sonics,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Slick Rick,
The Smoke,
Tim Buckley,
Eric Dolphy,
Au Pairs,
Black Bananas,
Bush Tetras,
Althea and Donna,
Con Funk Shun,
The Cowsills,
Ultravox,
Pussy Galore,
MC5,
Deakin,
Scion,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Last Poets,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Joey Negro,
Bobby Womack,
Rotary Connection,
In Retrospect,
the Sonics,
48th St. Collective,
Rosa Yemen,
The Dirtbombs,
Oblivians,
Roxette,
Make Up,
John Holt,
B.T. Express,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mandrill,
The American Breed,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Blake Baxter,
Icehouse,
Arcadia,
E-Dancer,
The Fall,
Amon Düül II,
Bizarre Inc.,
Liliput,
Bobby Sherman,
Hasil Adkins,
London Community Gospel Choir,
CMW,
Public Enemy,
Infiniti,
Nik Kershaw,
Joe Smooth,
Spandau Ballet,
F. McDonald,
Ornette Coleman,
The Blues Magoos,
Darondo,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.