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 Togo and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Second Layer to the electroclash 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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
The Grass Roots,
The Doobie Brothers,
Monks,
The Mojo Men,
Ossler,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Freddie Wadling,
Wire,
Mantronix,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Swans,
Junior Murvin,
Ten City,
Bill Near,
Dark Day,
Young Marble Giants,
The Tremeloes,
Malaria!,
Buzzcocks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Royal Trux,
Aural Exciters,
Radiopuhelimet,
Yellowson,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sonic Youth,
Clear Light,
Nick Fraelich,
Mission of Burma,
The Remains,
The Index,
Banda Bassotti,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rod Modell,
New Order,
Crooked Eye,
Dawn Penn,
John Foxx,
Pierre Henry,
Graham Central Station,
Swans,
Spoonie Gee,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Seeds,
Peter and Kerry,
Harmonia,
Liliput,
ABC,
Little Man,
The Searchers,
MC5,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sam Rivers,
JFA,
Dave Gahan,
Boz Scaggs,
Connie Case,
The Birthday Party,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.