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 Sweden and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 Delhi and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Michelle Simonal to the grunge 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Section 25 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dave Gahan,
The Durutti Column,
Main Source,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sonic Youth,
Robert Hood,
The Misunderstood,
Rufus Thomas,
L. Decosne,
John Lydon,
Smog,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Doobie Brothers,
Carl Craig,
Roxette,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Young Rascals,
Brothers Johnson,
Echospace,
Lightning Bolt,
The Gladiators,
Agitation Free,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Animal Collective,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Move,
The Fall,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Swans,
The Neon Judgement,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Cluster,
Hardrive,
Youth Brigade,
The Index,
Peter & Gordon,
The Fire Engines,
Supertramp,
Suburban Knight,
Zapp,
Gichy Dan,
the Soft Cell,
Minny Pops,
Jeff Mills,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Can,
cv313,
Maurizio,
Yaz,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pet Shop Boys,
Chris Corsano,
Alton Ellis,
The Happenings,
Harry Pussy,
EPMD,
The United States of America,
Ronan,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.