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 Bangladesh and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 June of 44 to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Deakin,
Inner City,
Max Romeo,
The Selecter,
The Real Kids,
Gichy Dan,
Depeche Mode,
Wolf Eyes,
D'Angelo,
Wings,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Buzzcocks,
Japan,
Khruangbin,
the Germs,
Vladislav Delay,
Nas,
Patti Smith,
Aloha Tigers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bronski Beat,
Urselle,
Archie Shepp,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Duran Duran,
Visage,
Yusef Lateef,
La Düsseldorf,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Mr. Review,
The J.B.'s,
Average White Band,
Colin Newman,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Steve Hackett,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Nils Olav,
Interpol,
Fluxion,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
PIL,
The Five Americans,
Tres Demented,
Mo-Dettes,
Bootsy Collins,
cv313,
Technova,
James White and The Blacks,
Wally Richardson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Black Dice,
The Index,
Nico,
The Leaves,
In Retrospect,
Ultra Naté,
The Moleskins,
Isaac Hayes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux.
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.