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 Nepal and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Litter to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Human League,
Lucky Dragons,
Darondo,
Pere Ubu,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Association,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Wolf Eyes,
Rufus Thomas,
Suicide,
Gang Gang Dance,
Archie Shepp,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Simply Red,
Easy Going,
the Fania All-Stars,
T.S.O.L.,
The Saints,
Gang of Four,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tommy Roe,
Y Pants,
Fela Kuti,
Henry Cow,
Faust,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Franke,
China Crisis,
Alphaville,
Sugar Minott,
Idris Muhammad,
Public Enemy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Derrick May,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Country Teasers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Max Romeo,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Associates,
Ludus,
The Golliwogs,
Scion,
Gichy Dan,
The Moody Blues,
Brick,
Lebanon Hanover,
Girls At Our Best!,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kaleidoscope,
Crash Course in Science,
Eve St. Jones,
the Sonics,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jeff Lynne,
Joey Negro,
Crooked Eye,
The Five Americans,
Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts.
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.