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 Marshall Islands and from Lagos.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 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 Terrestrial Tones to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Davy DMX 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Steve Hackett,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Tommy Roe,
Yellowson,
Bill Wells,
Infiniti,
Khruangbin,
Smog,
Magma,
Faraquet,
Whodini,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kenny Larkin,
Henry Cow,
Jeff Lynne,
Scientists,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kurtis Blow,
Reuben Wilson,
Roy Ayers,
Massinfluence,
Jandek,
Skarface,
Visage,
Procol Harum,
John Coltrane,
Livin' Joy,
the Normal,
Donny Hathaway,
Juan Atkins,
The Walker Brothers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cal Tjader,
Crash Course in Science,
Rapeman,
Cecil Taylor,
Mr. Review,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Eyeless In Gaza,
DNA,
K-Klass,
Moss Icon,
Fluxion,
Arthur Verocai,
Television,
The Fire Engines,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Los Fastidios,
The Sound,
Gastr Del Sol,
Suburban Knight,
The Shadows of Knight,
Loose Ends,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Moleskins,
The Zeros,
Janne Schatter,
X-101,
Ultra Naté,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.