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 Afghanistan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 Interpol to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thompson Twins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Moody Blues,
Duran Duran,
OOIOO,
Talk Talk,
Maurizio,
Minnie Riperton,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rod Modell,
Pierre Henry,
Ludus,
David Axelrod,
The Golliwogs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Blake Baxter,
Lyres,
Bobby Byrd,
Andrew Hill,
Niagra,
E-Dancer,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Con Funk Shun,
Glambeats Corp.,
Skaos,
Ossler,
Ten City,
Cecil Taylor,
Alison Limerick,
Model 500,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Soft Cell,
The Neon Judgement,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Drive Like Jehu,
Robert Görl,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Monolake,
Black Bananas,
Yaz,
Bauhaus,
Kayak,
The Slits,
Oneida,
Arab on Radar,
The Cure,
Fela Kuti,
Judy Mowatt,
JFA,
Brick,
Grey Daturas,
Sixth Finger,
Das Ding,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Easy Going,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
David Bowie,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jerry's Kids,
EPMD,
The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques.
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.