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 Costa Rica and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 New Order to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
Gang of Four,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Fugazi,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
the Soft Cell,
John Coltrane,
Blake Baxter,
Khruangbin,
Quantec,
Absolute Body Control,
Slave,
Depeche Mode,
Stereo Dub,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mandrill,
Bobby Byrd,
Minutemen,
Howard Jones,
Youth Brigade,
Maurizio,
Marine Girls,
Hoover,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marmalade,
Cluster,
Section 25,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rotary Connection,
Suburban Knight,
Terry Callier,
Aswad,
The Barracudas,
Nirvana,
Dead Boys,
Danielle Patucci,
Boredoms,
The Human League,
The Sound,
June Days,
Marcia Griffiths,
Babytalk,
Fat Boys,
DNA,
James White and The Blacks,
Wolf Eyes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jawbox,
The Gap Band,
Crime,
Camberwell Now,
Deakin,
Laurel Aitken,
Newcleus,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mark Hollis,
Bill Near,
Main Source,
Warren Ellis,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.