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 Ghana and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the techno 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 The Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Bourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Pop Group,
The Invisible,
Neil Young,
The Slits,
Faraquet,
Wire,
Josef K,
Siglo XX,
Roy Ayers,
Bobby Sherman,
Freddie Wadling,
The Toasters,
Minnie Riperton,
Desert Stars,
John Coltrane,
Jesper Dahlback,
Barclay James Harvest,
Boredoms,
Technova,
Derrick May,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pere Ubu,
Angry Samoans,
Icehouse,
Fear,
Panda Bear,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Tommy Roe,
Index,
Pierre Henry,
Motorama,
Grauzone,
The Martian,
The Sonics,
Gong,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tom Boy,
The Gladiators,
Vainqueur,
Aloha Tigers,
Sonic Youth,
Basic Channel,
Soft Machine,
Jeff Lynne,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Evens,
The Buckinghams,
June of 44,
Das Ding,
Harmonia,
The United States of America,
The Moody Blues,
Average White Band,
Hot Snakes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jeff Mills,
The Associates,
Dual Sessions,
Harry Pussy,
Zapp,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.