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 Tonga and from Lyon.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
Camouflage,
Wire,
The Searchers,
Archie Shepp,
Pierre Henry,
The Trojans,
The Alarm Clocks,
Glenn Branca,
Matthew Bourne,
Faraquet,
Prince Buster,
MC5,
Mars,
Accadde A,
Bob Dylan,
Hoover,
Silicon Teens,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cameo,
The Dirtbombs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Thee Headcoats,
Todd Rundgren,
Dorothy Ashby,
Amon Düül II,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Excepter,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bill Near,
the Soft Cell,
kango's stein massive,
Mad Mike,
Hasil Adkins,
The Neon Judgement,
Franke,
The Mummies,
Second Layer,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Essential Logic,
Byron Stingily,
8 Eyed Spy,
ABBA,
The Sound,
Max Romeo,
Ituana,
Minor Threat,
Davy DMX,
Barbara Tucker,
James White and The Blacks,
Electric Prunes,
Piero Umiliani,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Fortunes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Quando Quango,
Steve Hackett,
Sugar Minott,
Malaria!,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.