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 Lebanon and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Moebius to the electroclash 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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fifty Foot Hose 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?
Moby Grape,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Popol Vuh,
B.T. Express,
The Neon Judgement,
the Soft Cell,
Drive Like Jehu,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lindisfarne,
Masters at Work,
K-Klass,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kerri Chandler,
Minor Threat,
Qualms,
Harry Pussy,
Sugar Minott,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sex Pistols,
Stiv Bators,
Mo-Dettes,
John Foxx,
Jacob Miller,
Interpol,
Mad Mike,
X-102,
DJ Style,
Gabor Szabo,
Kerrie Biddell,
Neil Young,
Steve Hackett,
Peter and Kerry,
The Monks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Panda Bear,
Cecil Taylor,
Siglo XX,
Babytalk,
Monks,
48th St. Collective,
Michelle Simonal,
Scott Walker,
Sandy B,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Eric Dolphy,
Boredoms,
The Index,
T.S.O.L.,
Brothers Johnson,
Lalann,
The Barracudas,
AZ,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gang Starr,
The Dirtbombs,
Eric Copeland,
Kenny Larkin,
Aloha Tigers,
The Alarm Clocks,
The J.B.'s,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.