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 Burundi and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
The Neon Judgement,
Agent Orange,
Sex Pistols,
Mad Mike,
Jacques Brel,
Index,
John Coltrane,
PIL,
Kool Moe Dee,
Aural Exciters,
Gil Scott Heron,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sällskapet,
MC5,
The Saints,
The Residents,
Eddi Front,
Oblivians,
Man Eating Sloth,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Germs,
Jandek,
Malaria!,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Swans,
The Cowsills,
Schoolly D,
Pere Ubu,
Bobby Womack,
The J.B.'s,
Siglo XX,
The Wake,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tubeway Army,
The Monochrome Set,
Freddie Wadling,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brick,
Bizarre Inc.,
Joyce Sims,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Misunderstood,
The Slits,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Depeche Mode,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Move,
Negative Approach,
The Walker Brothers,
Michelle Simonal,
Babytalk,
Newcleus,
Moebius,
Swans,
Simply Red,
Albert Ayler,
Mary Jane Girls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sister Nancy,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.