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 Tuvalu and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Guru Guru to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Normal. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
The Stooges,
Khruangbin,
Tres Demented,
Donald Byrd,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Average White Band,
Black Moon,
Saccharine Trust,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pole,
The Durutti Column,
Joe Finger,
Lower 48,
The Sonics,
Icehouse,
The Tremeloes,
Sex Pistols,
Henry Cow,
The Litter,
The Buckinghams,
Lalann,
the Fania All-Stars,
Leonard Cohen,
The Smoke,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mr. Review,
The Victims,
Marc Almond,
K-Klass,
Spandau Ballet,
Chris & Cosey,
Man Parrish,
Newcleus,
Japan,
The Pretty Things,
The Doors,
U.S. Maple,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Tubeway Army,
The Real Kids,
Connie Case,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Mark Hollis,
The United States of America,
Ultravox,
Liliput,
This Heat,
Rosa Yemen,
Sugar Minott,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mad Mike,
the Association,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Anthony Braxton,
Laurel Aitken,
Rekid,
Wire,
Peter and Kerry,
Motorama,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.