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 Luxembourg and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 chamberlin 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 The Happenings to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Golliwogs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Evens,
Supertramp,
Kerrie Biddell,
Scrapy,
Sight & Sound,
Faraquet,
Average White Band,
the Normal,
Duran Duran,
Ituana,
Lou Reed,
Goldenarms,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Panda Bear,
Crooked Eye,
These Immortal Souls,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Kinks,
Judy Mowatt,
Piero Umiliani,
Altered Images,
Bush Tetras,
Barbara Tucker,
Loose Ends,
Youth Brigade,
Ultra Naté,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
New Age Steppers,
Rotary Connection,
Patti Smith,
Iggy Pop,
Magma,
Jerry's Kids,
Shoche,
Rod Modell,
The United States of America,
Buzzcocks,
Brand Nubian,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Glenn Branca,
The Remains,
Section 25,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bill Near,
Alphaville,
Roxy Music,
The Leaves,
Deakin,
Oneida,
Interpol,
The Offenders,
Minutemen,
Erasure,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bob Dylan,
Pulsallama,
Vainqueur,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.