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 New Zealand and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator 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 Normal to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Graham Central Station,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Johnny Osbourne,
Crime,
Thee Headcoats,
Rekid,
The Toasters,
Gichy Dan,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
One Last Wish,
Quando Quango,
Hot Snakes,
The Index,
the Germs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Half Japanese,
The Birthday Party,
The Leaves,
The Moody Blues,
Nik Kershaw,
Lyres,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Blake Baxter,
Blossom Toes,
Sun City Girls,
The Residents,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Unwound,
New York Dolls,
Max Romeo,
Ultravox,
The Wake,
The Sonics,
Eric Dolphy,
Mantronix,
Marvin Gaye,
Neil Young,
Lungfish,
Leonard Cohen,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Eurythmics,
Supertramp,
Swans,
Bobby Womack,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Theoretical Girls,
Slave,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Visage,
Index,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Andrew Hill,
The Victims,
Sugar Minott,
L. Decosne,
Josef K,
Mandrill,
Harpers Bizarre,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.