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 Uzbekistan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 harpsichord 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 Al Stewart to the disco 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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
The Blues Magoos,
Arthur Verocai,
Kool Moe Dee,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
B.T. Express,
Basic Channel,
Neu!,
John Foxx,
Monks,
The J.B.'s,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Pretty Things,
The Busters,
The Vogues,
the Soft Cell,
The Cramps,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Remains,
Dead Boys,
T. Rex,
Todd Rundgren,
Ultra Naté,
Anthony Braxton,
Subhumans,
Liliput,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sparks,
Kayak,
Vladislav Delay,
Don Cherry,
Dennis Brown,
Young Marble Giants,
Magma,
The Modern Lovers,
Eric Copeland,
Scientists,
Motorama,
Frankie Knuckles,
DJ Style,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Anakelly,
John Coltrane,
Erykah Badu,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Gun Club,
Kaleidoscope,
Guru Guru,
The Durutti Column,
Pussy Galore,
Alice Coltrane,
Mandrill,
Tears for Fears,
X-Ray Spex,
Avey Tare,
Bang On A Can,
Sarah Menescal,
Freddie Wadling,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Leonard Cohen,
The Fuzztones,
Sällskapet,
Mr. Review,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.