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 Monaco and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 T. Rex to the electroclash 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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Neu!,
Dark Day,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Oneida,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Scratch Acid,
Jawbox,
E-Dancer,
Aaron Thompson,
Y Pants,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mandrill,
Easy Going,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Can,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Depeche Mode,
F. McDonald,
Sex Pistols,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eric Copeland,
Sparks,
Spandau Ballet,
Lindisfarne,
Chris & Cosey,
Black Sheep,
Echospace,
Black Bananas,
Black Moon,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Marc Almond,
La Düsseldorf,
Wasted Youth,
JFA,
DJ Sneak,
Circle Jerks,
EPMD,
R.M.O.,
Arab on Radar,
Blake Baxter,
Gregory Isaacs,
Simply Red,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Agent Orange,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fear,
Bobby Byrd,
Anthony Braxton,
The Monks,
The Sonics,
Cymande,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Zero Boys,
Banda Bassotti,
Mission of Burma,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Dual Sessions,
Adolescents,
The Victims,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.