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 Grenada and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Robert Palmer 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 Pharoah Sanders to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stiv Bators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magazine,
The Gun Club,
The Toasters,
The Saints,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Slackers,
LL Cool J,
Amon Düül,
The Modern Lovers,
Bobby Sherman,
Black Pus,
Crispian St. Peters,
Shuggie Otis,
John Foxx,
Pantytec,
The Red Krayola,
Stereo Dub,
Max Romeo,
Outsiders,
Khruangbin,
Neil Young,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Mars,
Fugazi,
June of 44,
The Angels of Light,
Newcleus,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joe Finger,
Spandau Ballet,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Swans,
Joy Division,
X-Ray Spex,
Man Parrish,
Negative Approach,
Bill Wells,
A Certain Ratio,
Warsaw,
The Slits,
Sex Pistols,
Underground Resistance,
CMW,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Barracudas,
Rosa Yemen,
Blancmange,
Japan,
Nils Olav,
Metal Thangz,
Dawn Penn,
The Cure,
The Black Dice,
Suicide,
The Smoke,
Laurel Aitken,
Anthony Braxton,
Zero Boys,
Ronan,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.