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 Cuba and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 synthesizer 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 The Last Poets to the techno 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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unwound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Rod Modell,
Man Eating Sloth,
Oneida,
The Walker Brothers,
Morten Harket,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Misunderstood,
Average White Band,
Harmonia,
Second Layer,
Smog,
Royal Trux,
Public Image Ltd.,
Icehouse,
T. Rex,
The Names,
Crooked Eye,
Pharoah Sanders,
Moebius,
Skriet,
Jandek,
Faraquet,
Letta Mbulu,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bad Manners,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Motorama,
Barbara Tucker,
The Tremeloes,
Ossler,
Newcleus,
Ronan,
Marcia Griffiths,
These Immortal Souls,
Gabor Szabo,
Avey Tare,
In Retrospect,
Aswad,
Bluetip,
Japan,
Todd Rundgren,
Rakim,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Last Poets,
Dual Sessions,
T.S.O.L.,
Yaz,
Nils Olav,
Roger Hodgson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Barrington Levy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Grauzone,
Reagan Youth,
The Searchers,
Magazine,
Black Moon,
The Birthday Party,
Severed Heads,
Minny Pops,
La Düsseldorf,
The Fortunes,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.