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 Iceland and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 These Immortal Souls to the rock 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Tom Boy,
AZ,
La Düsseldorf,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Aural Exciters,
Barry Ungar,
Crispian St. Peters,
Godley & Creme,
Amon Düül,
Judy Mowatt,
Slick Rick,
LL Cool J,
The Neon Judgement,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rufus Thomas,
Hoover,
The Mighty Diamonds,
A Certain Ratio,
Stetsasonic,
Rapeman,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Mantronix,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Thee Headcoats,
The New Christs,
Outsiders,
The Names,
Howard Jones,
Scientists,
Whodini,
Liliput,
a-ha,
Davy DMX,
Joyce Sims,
Yazoo,
June Days,
Altered Images,
Scan 7,
The Count Five,
Boredoms,
The Grass Roots,
Laurel Aitken,
Ultimate Spinach,
Black Sheep,
The Doors,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bad Manners,
ABC,
Ice-T,
Electric Prunes,
The Wake,
Pagans,
Y Pants,
Stockholm Monsters,
Wire,
Grauzone,
Pantaleimon,
Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station.
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.