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 Slovenia and from Woodstock.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Barclay James Harvest to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Technova record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
The Misunderstood,
Donald Byrd,
Archie Shepp,
Marshall Jefferson,
Al Stewart,
Young Marble Giants,
Jeff Mills,
Clear Light,
Arcadia,
Mad Mike,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Moon,
Bang On A Can,
John Foxx,
Fugazi,
Ralphi Rosario,
Boogie Down Productions,
Flipper,
The Fire Engines,
Ten City,
Joensuu 1685,
Barrington Levy,
The Fugs,
the Bar-Kays,
The Standells,
One Last Wish,
Little Man,
Ossler,
Livin' Joy,
Brothers Johnson,
Liliput,
Roxette,
Ludus,
Judy Mowatt,
Cheater Slicks,
Goldenarms,
Hoover,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pulsallama,
the Sonics,
A Certain Ratio,
Altered Images,
Heaven 17,
Prince Buster,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lakeside,
The Doors,
Cal Tjader,
The Blackbyrds,
Sonic Youth,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Talk Talk,
Blossom Toes,
Jerry's Kids,
The Moleskins,
Kayak,
Iggy Pop,
Rotary Connection,
Duran Duran,
Second Layer,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.