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 Mexico and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Laurel Aitken to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Schoolly D,
Bad Manners,
Yaz,
Darondo,
R.M.O.,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sam Rivers,
Half Japanese,
The Gun Club,
Harry Pussy,
Pole,
Interpol,
China Crisis,
The Martian,
The Moody Blues,
Sixth Finger,
Marcia Griffiths,
Flash Fearless,
Dave Gahan,
Rosa Yemen,
The Blackbyrds,
Inner City,
A Certain Ratio,
Massinfluence,
The Sound,
John Lydon,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lee Hazlewood,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Human League,
The Victims,
The Toasters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Can,
Radiopuhelimet,
Infiniti,
The Vogues,
Quadrant,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Moleskins,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ituana,
The Last Poets,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Nirvana,
Wasted Youth,
Rites of Spring,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Fat Boys,
Make Up,
Grauzone,
The Move,
DJ Sneak,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Fall,
Suicide,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Beau Brummels,
Arthur Verocai,
Marvin Gaye,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.