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 Ivory Coast and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Severed Heads to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Dead C. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Five Americans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
Tubeway Army,
The Cure,
These Immortal Souls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jeff Lynne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
La Düsseldorf,
The New Christs,
Eric Copeland,
Lungfish,
Chris Corsano,
Avey Tare,
Bob Dylan,
Crispy Ambulance,
The American Breed,
Bootsy Collins,
Rapeman,
Television,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Dorothy Ashby,
Amazonics,
Arab on Radar,
Johnny Clarke,
The Blues Magoos,
Metal Thangz,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Fall,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Selecter,
Judy Mowatt,
The Tremeloes,
the Swans,
Tomorrow,
Robert Wyatt,
Lou Reed,
The Gladiators,
Tears for Fears,
Donny Hathaway,
This Heat,
Minor Threat,
Negative Approach,
Babytalk,
Zapp,
Sam Rivers,
The Happenings,
Surgeon,
Traffic Nightmare,
Derrick Morgan,
Smog,
Delta 5,
John Lydon,
The Angels of Light,
The Pretty Things,
Cybotron,
Harry Pussy,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.