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 South Africa and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Todd Rundgren to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
The Gap Band,
Brass Construction,
Big Daddy Kane,
Deakin,
The Dirtbombs,
The Buckinghams,
Sparks,
One Last Wish,
China Crisis,
The Star Department,
Bill Wells,
Marmalade,
Japan,
Dave Gahan,
Rapeman,
Little Man,
Cheater Slicks,
Pulsallama,
Adolescents,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sällskapet,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Janne Schatter,
Radiohead,
Pharoah Sanders,
Neu!,
Arab on Radar,
Tropical Tobacco,
Alphaville,
The Birthday Party,
The Durutti Column,
Vainqueur,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
New Age Steppers,
Sound Behaviour,
Marc Almond,
The Velvet Underground,
Lalann,
Lucky Dragons,
Ultimate Spinach,
Eve St. Jones,
T. Rex,
Livin' Joy,
Television,
Liliput,
Fad Gadget,
Ohio Players,
Minutemen,
X-102,
Yaz,
The Fall,
The Moleskins,
Todd Terry,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kas Product,
John Coltrane,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Walker Brothers,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Sonics,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.