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 Tuvalu and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and New York.
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 sitar 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 Byron Stingily to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
The Monks,
Crooked Eye,
a-ha,
The Misunderstood,
Anthony Braxton,
Faraquet,
Bill Wells,
Dead Boys,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Gories,
Country Teasers,
Au Pairs,
Nils Olav,
Alison Limerick,
Quadrant,
Nick Fraelich,
Essential Logic,
Scrapy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
T. Rex,
Livin' Joy,
Laurel Aitken,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Young Rascals,
the Bar-Kays,
Leonard Cohen,
Gang Starr,
Moebius,
Steve Hackett,
Slick Rick,
Cameo,
Bob Dylan,
Funkadelic,
Barry Ungar,
the Swans,
Radiopuhelimet,
Anakelly,
The Martian,
The Angels of Light,
The Victims,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Toasters,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Michelle Simonal,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lungfish,
Glambeats Corp.,
Loose Ends,
Eve St. Jones,
Camberwell Now,
Y Pants,
Marmalade,
the Fania All-Stars,
Siglo XX,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Amazonics,
Tom Boy,
Eli Mardock,
Max Romeo,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.