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 United States and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Radiohead tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
The Moody Blues,
UT,
The Barracudas,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Skarface,
The Real Kids,
Metal Thangz,
Radio Birdman,
Hoover,
The Residents,
Maurizio,
Throbbing Gristle,
Letta Mbulu,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Talk Talk,
Marvin Gaye,
Glenn Branca,
Blossom Toes,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Gang Green,
Tears for Fears,
Ken Boothe,
Arthur Verocai,
Country Teasers,
Nils Olav,
Pulsallama,
Warsaw,
Lakeside,
Bobby Sherman,
Matthew Halsall,
Chrome,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Derrick Morgan,
Fela Kuti,
X-Ray Spex,
Livin' Joy,
Newcleus,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Man Parrish,
The Mojo Men,
Flipper,
X-101,
The Evens,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Fuzztones,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Boogie Down Productions,
Dave Gahan,
Wire,
Eden Ahbez,
Agitation Free,
the Sonics,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Skaos,
The Shadows of Knight,
John Cale,
Ponytail,
The Beau Brummels,
Joyce Sims,
The Dave Clark Five,
Howard Jones,
Essential Logic,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.