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 Lesotho and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Gabor Szabo to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quadrant 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
Shoche,
Johnny Osbourne,
Skriet,
Cymande,
Desert Stars,
The Seeds,
Ludus,
Robert Wyatt,
The Birthday Party,
Zapp,
Jacob Miller,
The Sound,
Black Sheep,
Blancmange,
Avey Tare,
Make Up,
Tomorrow,
Pussy Galore,
Oblivians,
Bobby Byrd,
Visage,
Godley & Creme,
Minnie Riperton,
Bill Wells,
Youth Brigade,
Man Parrish,
Deadbeat,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gastr Del Sol,
Byron Stingily,
Rekid,
Sex Pistols,
The Moleskins,
Pantytec,
Ronan,
Blossom Toes,
The Dirtbombs,
The Divine Comedy,
The Barracudas,
Little Man,
Lakeside,
Mr. Review,
Rod Modell,
The Leaves,
Roxette,
Gang Starr,
Second Layer,
Gabor Szabo,
Public Enemy,
The Durutti Column,
Schoolly D,
Whodini,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Swell Maps,
Flipper,
Harry Pussy,
Ten City,
The Modern Lovers,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Fugs,
Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel.
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.