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 Mongolia and from Paris.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rites of Spring to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
DJ Style,
China Crisis,
David Axelrod,
Bob Dylan,
Terrestrial Tones,
Neil Young,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kurtis Blow,
Kayak,
Suicide,
Duran Duran,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Das Ding,
Chrome,
Funky Four + One,
The Selecter,
Lou Reed,
Joey Negro,
The Doors,
The Golliwogs,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Smiths,
Tommy Roe,
K-Klass,
Average White Band,
Bauhaus,
Second Layer,
EPMD,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Matthew Halsall,
John Coltrane,
Deakin,
Joyce Sims,
Niagra,
Little Man,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Black Bananas,
June Days,
The Names,
Shoche,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Toasters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Connie Case,
Monks,
Juan Atkins,
Traffic Nightmare,
Masters at Work,
8 Eyed Spy,
John Cale,
Flipper,
Gil Scott Heron,
Electric Prunes,
Aural Exciters,
Trumans Water,
Agitation Free,
Ituana,
Cheater Slicks,
The Durutti Column,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Camberwell Now,
Boredoms,
Thompson Twins,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.