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 Micronesia and from Milan.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the güiro 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 Tres Demented to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ronan,
Anakelly,
Robert Hood,
Skaos,
Glambeats Corp.,
Swell Maps,
The Names,
Sun Ra,
Mantronix,
Urselle,
Pulsallama,
Los Fastidios,
Howard Jones,
Tommy Roe,
Silicon Teens,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Thompson Twins,
Maurizio,
The United States of America,
The Toasters,
OOIOO,
Glenn Branca,
Franke,
The Doors,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Suburban Knight,
Boogie Down Productions,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
John Lydon,
Kaleidoscope,
Frankie Knuckles,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Iggy Pop,
Mo-Dettes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Selecter,
The Seeds,
Stereo Dub,
Whodini,
the Slits,
Eric Copeland,
Bluetip,
The Birthday Party,
Minny Pops,
Simply Red,
LL Cool J,
Rufus Thomas,
Radiopuhelimet,
Darondo,
the Normal,
The Gap Band,
a-ha,
The Fuzztones,
Minnie Riperton,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Gladiators,
Lalo Schifrin,
Nils Olav,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.