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 Ethiopia and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 oboe 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 The Doors to the dance 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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-Ray Spex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Black Sheep,
Lungfish,
Minny Pops,
Hoover,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
kango's stein massive,
Ice-T,
Joyce Sims,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Monks,
Liliput,
The Barracudas,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jawbox,
the Bar-Kays,
Sister Nancy,
Accadde A,
Drexciya,
ABC,
Jacques Brel,
New Order,
Das Ding,
Jimmy McGriff,
Tres Demented,
Hardrive,
The Human League,
Stockholm Monsters,
Marmalade,
8 Eyed Spy,
Tim Buckley,
Brand Nubian,
Yusef Lateef,
The Mojo Men,
Kayak,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Erasure,
Eden Ahbez,
The Knickerbockers,
Amon Düül,
The Raincoats,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tears for Fears,
Outsiders,
Bootsy Collins,
Robert Wyatt,
Morten Harket,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
David Bowie,
John Cale,
Skaos,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ponytail,
DJ Style,
June of 44,
The Doobie Brothers,
Y Pants,
Dark Day,
The Saints,
Loose Ends,
Eric B and Rakim,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.