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 New Zealand and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 Philadelphia and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 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 Groovy Waters to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Severed Heads,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sun Ra,
Flash Fearless,
The Vogues,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Fugazi,
Glenn Branca,
The Blackbyrds,
The Black Dice,
Ken Boothe,
Spoonie Gee,
Fluxion,
PIL,
Brick,
Howard Jones,
Schoolly D,
Cameo,
Joy Division,
Cymande,
The United States of America,
Eden Ahbez,
Ituana,
The Busters,
Pole,
Gabor Szabo,
Sex Pistols,
Juan Atkins,
Eve St. Jones,
Mr. Review,
China Crisis,
Franke,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Walker Brothers,
The Buckinghams,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Au Pairs,
CMW,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Lydon,
Prince Buster,
Mandrill,
OOIOO,
The Slackers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Section 25,
Lyres,
Roy Ayers,
Mo-Dettes,
kango's stein massive,
Isaac Hayes,
The Count Five,
Lakeside,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy.
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.