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 Dominica and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Manila.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Scan 7 to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls 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 snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
James White and The Blacks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Nation of Ulysses,
E-Dancer,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Grey Daturas,
Country Teasers,
Shoche,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Roger Hodgson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Loose Ends,
Barry Ungar,
The Cowsills,
Chrome,
Hoover,
Vladislav Delay,
Minnie Riperton,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Dirtbombs,
Tim Buckley,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Golliwogs,
Deepchord,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Second Layer,
The Toasters,
the Germs,
Thee Headcoats,
Can,
The Busters,
Theoretical Girls,
The Modern Lovers,
Electric Prunes,
Schoolly D,
Donald Byrd,
Fela Kuti,
Gastr Del Sol,
Aswad,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Radiopuhelimet,
Man Eating Sloth,
Audionom,
New York Dolls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sex Pistols,
The Fall,
Sonic Youth,
Pet Shop Boys,
Spandau Ballet,
The Evens,
Lalo Schifrin,
Y Pants,
Quantec,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Avey Tare,
Essential Logic,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.