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 Papua New Guinea and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 Copenhagen and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 L. Decosne to the techno 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 The Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Silicon Teens,
Scan 7,
Rekid,
the Sonics,
The Angels of Light,
Cybotron,
the Normal,
Visage,
Essential Logic,
Sällskapet,
The Smiths,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Smoke,
Trumans Water,
The Buckinghams,
Arcadia,
Freddie Wadling,
Arthur Verocai,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Q and Not U,
Janne Schatter,
John Coltrane,
Joyce Sims,
Don Cherry,
Lebanon Hanover,
Intrusion,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Index,
John Holt,
Bill Wells,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
In Retrospect,
Matthew Halsall,
Patti Smith,
Susan Cadogan,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lucky Dragons,
Shoche,
Joy Division,
Pantytec,
Malaria!,
Mars,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Spoonie Gee,
Boredoms,
Amazonics,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nik Kershaw,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bronski Beat,
The Cramps,
Average White Band,
Hashim,
The Fall,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Blossom Toes,
Steve Hackett,
Jeru the Damaja,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Archie Shepp,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.