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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Carl Craig to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Bizarre Inc. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eric Copeland,
Camberwell Now,
Alice Coltrane,
Surgeon,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Stooges,
The Selecter,
Black Bananas,
Mantronix,
Joensuu 1685,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bizarre Inc.,
Interpol,
Cluster,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lalann,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Amazonics,
Liliput,
Yaz,
H. Thieme,
Gang of Four,
The Leaves,
Ronan,
Charles Mingus,
Drive Like Jehu,
Deadbeat,
Lalo Schifrin,
Dead Boys,
Saccharine Trust,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ornette Coleman,
Idris Muhammad,
Arcadia,
Lou Christie,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Dead C,
Zapp,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Star Department,
Inner City,
The Skatalites,
Marmalade,
Radiohead,
Morten Harket,
Magazine,
the Association,
Q65,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pierre Henry,
F. McDonald,
the Swans,
the Bar-Kays,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.