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 Cyprus and from Stockholm.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish 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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Althea and Donna,
Bobby Byrd,
Brass Construction,
Laurel Aitken,
Yusef Lateef,
Cameo,
Ludus,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jandek,
Soft Machine,
kango's stein massive,
Nick Fraelich,
Buzzcocks,
the Fania All-Stars,
The J.B.'s,
Sällskapet,
Toni Rubio,
Khruangbin,
Minor Threat,
Ultra Naté,
The Golliwogs,
Cal Tjader,
The Move,
Crooked Eye,
Faraquet,
U.S. Maple,
John Coltrane,
Chrome,
Reuben Wilson,
Dawn Penn,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Unwound,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Derrick Morgan,
Bang On A Can,
Albert Ayler,
Dave Gahan,
Electric Prunes,
Rakim,
Amazonics,
Audionom,
Hasil Adkins,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ponytail,
Funky Four + One,
Little Man,
E-Dancer,
Half Japanese,
Matthew Bourne,
Ultimate Spinach,
Cheater Slicks,
Funkadelic,
Slave,
Bronski Beat,
Cluster,
Malaria!,
Sun Ra,
Fluxion,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band.
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.