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 Guinea and from Sao Paulo.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 synthesizer 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 This Heat 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Clarke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Maurizio,
Ken Boothe,
Bob Dylan,
The Shadows of Knight,
Matthew Halsall,
Pylon,
Motorama,
Inner City,
Ice-T,
Rakim,
Cybotron,
Nik Kershaw,
Supertramp,
Ituana,
The Moody Blues,
Youth Brigade,
Deepchord,
Fugazi,
Ohio Players,
Khruangbin,
The Residents,
Sun Ra,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Andrew Hill,
MC5,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
U.S. Maple,
the Germs,
Wings,
The Saints,
Soul II Soul,
Trumans Water,
DNA,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mantronix,
Roy Ayers,
the Bar-Kays,
Model 500,
Pantaleimon,
MDC,
John Lydon,
Patti Smith,
Sparks,
Simply Red,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Easy Going,
Tubeway Army,
Max Romeo,
Wally Richardson,
The New Christs,
R.M.O.,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lucky Dragons,
the Association,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Swans,
The Evens,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.