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 Vietnam and from Halifax.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Gladiators to the punk 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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Nils Olav,
Index,
John Coltrane,
Faraquet,
Bobby Womack,
Sun Ra,
Wasted Youth,
T.S.O.L.,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pussy Galore,
Talk Talk,
The Red Krayola,
Jeru the Damaja,
Marc Almond,
Neil Young,
This Heat,
Franke,
Lindisfarne,
Hashim,
Warren Ellis,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Rapeman,
Todd Rundgren,
World's Most,
The Gories,
Roy Ayers,
Au Pairs,
Lucky Dragons,
The Gun Club,
Saccharine Trust,
Cluster,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Henry Cow,
Inner City,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fad Gadget,
The Slackers,
Barclay James Harvest,
Soulsonic Force,
Lakeside,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Associates,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fatback Band,
Kas Product,
The Stooges,
Pylon,
T. Rex,
The Pretty Things,
The Blues Magoos,
Brick,
Duran Duran,
Fela Kuti,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Television,
Japan,
The Trojans,
The Standells,
These Immortal Souls,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.