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 Bahamas and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bill Near to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Vainqueur. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nils Olav record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
The Smiths,
This Heat,
Das Ding,
The Vogues,
Nick Fraelich,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Minor Threat,
Scientists,
Urselle,
Pagans,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Erasure,
Lalo Schifrin,
Spandau Ballet,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Buckinghams,
The Grass Roots,
The Smoke,
The Martian,
The Misunderstood,
Tommy Roe,
Negative Approach,
Mantronix,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Last Poets,
Delon & Dalcan,
Chris Corsano,
The Monochrome Set,
Amon Düül,
Duran Duran,
The Mummies,
The Remains,
Can,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Newcleus,
Gabor Szabo,
Cluster,
Yusef Lateef,
Accadde A,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Groovy Waters,
Drexciya,
Skriet,
Colin Newman,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Scrapy,
Bush Tetras,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mr. Review,
H. Thieme,
Minny Pops,
Young Marble Giants,
Malaria!,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Slits,
Wally Richardson,
Nirvana,
Sexual Harrassment,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.