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 South Sudan 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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 guitar 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 Liliput to the grunge 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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bluetip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Skarface,
Wally Richardson,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lou Christie,
Sarah Menescal,
Bill Wells,
B.T. Express,
Nico,
Moby Grape,
The Star Department,
This Heat,
Dead Boys,
Porter Ricks,
Technova,
John Lydon,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tropical Tobacco,
Main Source,
The Grass Roots,
Metal Thangz,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Real Kids,
Saccharine Trust,
Aswad,
Reuben Wilson,
Junior Murvin,
In Retrospect,
Quadrant,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
China Crisis,
Zapp,
Tommy Roe,
Circle Jerks,
Suburban Knight,
Pulsallama,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Masters at Work,
Panda Bear,
Royal Trux,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mo-Dettes,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Loose Ends,
Colin Newman,
Tomorrow,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Aaron Thompson,
Parry Music,
Rekid,
Lalann,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Danielle Patucci,
Little Man,
Mad Mike,
Gong,
Carl Craig,
Sexual Harrassment,
Minutemen,
The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds.
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.