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 Cameroon and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Lou Reed 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
The Blackbyrds,
The Remains,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Charles Mingus,
Anakelly,
Moebius,
Laurel Aitken,
Sun Ra,
Funkadelic,
The Slackers,
The Stooges,
The Barracudas,
Roy Ayers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Q and Not U,
Fugazi,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ken Boothe,
The Standells,
Mad Mike,
Eve St. Jones,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Evens,
Hasil Adkins,
Minor Threat,
Soul II Soul,
Ituana,
Pere Ubu,
Con Funk Shun,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Nick Fraelich,
The Selecter,
Goldenarms,
Ronnie Foster,
The Music Machine,
Brand Nubian,
Josef K,
Bob Dylan,
Cecil Taylor,
Terry Callier,
Angry Samoans,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ralphi Rosario,
Black Bananas,
Jerry's Kids,
Zero Boys,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pylon,
Loose Ends,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Arthur Verocai,
Jacques Brel,
New Age Steppers,
Siglo XX,
Ohio Players,
Tres Demented,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.