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 Tajikistan and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Columbus.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Smog to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All Flipper tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
The Birthday Party,
Cal Tjader,
Gang Green,
Aswad,
The Smoke,
Maleditus Sound,
Kas Product,
The Gories,
Los Fastidios,
Brothers Johnson,
Boredoms,
F. McDonald,
Rites of Spring,
Zapp,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Infiniti,
Bootsy Collins,
Barry Ungar,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Skarface,
Funky Four + One,
The Residents,
The Cowsills,
Gregory Isaacs,
Robert Görl,
This Heat,
John Holt,
Fela Kuti,
Tomorrow,
Susan Cadogan,
Yellowson,
Tres Demented,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
David Bowie,
Derrick Morgan,
the Slits,
The Offenders,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Marc Almond,
The Litter,
Matthew Halsall,
Mad Mike,
Das Ding,
The Busters,
Bang On A Can,
Fatback Band,
Bizarre Inc.,
Soulsonic Force,
The Doors,
10cc,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fad Gadget,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
B.T. Express,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fear,
Lyres,
Symarip,
The Searchers,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.