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 Spain and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 John Coltrane 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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Mantronix,
Roxette,
John Coltrane,
A Certain Ratio,
Howard Jones,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Grandmaster Flash,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
John Foxx,
Black Moon,
Radiohead,
Wire,
Dennis Brown,
Groovy Waters,
Radiopuhelimet,
Mad Mike,
Motorama,
Lightning Bolt,
Blancmange,
The Music Machine,
Deakin,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ultimate Spinach,
Brass Construction,
Camouflage,
The Golliwogs,
Hasil Adkins,
Nik Kershaw,
T. Rex,
Harry Pussy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Suburban Knight,
The Mummies,
Bobby Sherman,
La Düsseldorf,
Matthew Bourne,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brand Nubian,
Jandek,
Henry Cow,
Ornette Coleman,
Fad Gadget,
Slick Rick,
John Lydon,
Metal Thangz,
The Dave Clark Five,
Lungfish,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Minutemen,
The Velvet Underground,
Dorothy Ashby,
Vladislav Delay,
Scientists,
Frankie Knuckles,
Dave Gahan,
Junior Murvin,
Shuggie Otis,
Black Pus,
The Doobie Brothers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Heaven 17,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.