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 Suriname and from Bremen.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Jimmy McGriff to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Cameo,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Black Bananas,
Bang On A Can,
The Trojans,
Hot Snakes,
Susan Cadogan,
Hoover,
Mr. Review,
Delon & Dalcan,
Dark Day,
Judy Mowatt,
Fugazi,
Albert Ayler,
a-ha,
Infiniti,
Ash Ra Tempel,
June Days,
the Germs,
Accadde A,
Althea and Donna,
Rhythm & Sound,
Graham Central Station,
Dave Gahan,
Boogie Down Productions,
Boz Scaggs,
Janne Schatter,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Inner City,
The Grass Roots,
Maleditus Sound,
The Offenders,
Ituana,
Urselle,
Neil Young,
Eddi Front,
Babytalk,
David Bowie,
Youth Brigade,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Porter Ricks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tom Boy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Boredoms,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Velvet Underground,
8 Eyed Spy,
Symarip,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sixth Finger,
Robert Görl,
Sun City Girls,
The Blues Magoos,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.