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 Switzerland and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 rhodes 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 Section 25 to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Shadows of Knight 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter 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?
Hot Snakes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Nico,
Icehouse,
Camouflage,
Frankie Knuckles,
Supertramp,
Stiv Bators,
La Düsseldorf,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Trojans,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
John Holt,
Livin' Joy,
Lungfish,
Rufus Thomas,
The Vogues,
Heaven 17,
Piero Umiliani,
The Techniques,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Star Department,
Minny Pops,
the Normal,
Darondo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
LL Cool J,
L. Decosne,
CMW,
Chrome,
Monolake,
The Dead C,
Cecil Taylor,
Mark Hollis,
The Grass Roots,
Pylon,
The Cowsills,
Bill Wells,
H. Thieme,
Sonny Sharrock,
This Heat,
Pantytec,
Scratch Acid,
Saccharine Trust,
Cameo,
Fela Kuti,
Swell Maps,
The Mummies,
Letta Mbulu,
48th St. Collective,
Janne Schatter,
Radio Birdman,
Duran Duran,
New York Dolls,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
A Certain Ratio,
Brothers Johnson,
Nirvana,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.