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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Portland.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
The Saints,
Rosa Yemen,
Ultimate Spinach,
Metal Thangz,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Steve Hackett,
The Beau Brummels,
The Zeros,
KRS-One,
The Velvet Underground,
Reagan Youth,
the Soft Cell,
T.S.O.L.,
The Divine Comedy,
the Human League,
Amazonics,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Althea and Donna,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
La Düsseldorf,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Scrapy,
Spandau Ballet,
Buzzcocks,
Unwound,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
F. McDonald,
The Modern Lovers,
Barclay James Harvest,
Cybotron,
John Holt,
Skriet,
Soft Cell,
Public Image Ltd.,
cv313,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Television Personalities,
Moss Icon,
Bobby Womack,
Agent Orange,
The Neon Judgement,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Red Krayola,
Rufus Thomas,
Susan Cadogan,
Kerri Chandler,
The Buckinghams,
Unrelated Segments,
The Offenders,
Desert Stars,
Blake Baxter,
The Golliwogs,
Joensuu 1685,
Easy Going,
Radio Birdman,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Heaven 17,
Ultra Naté,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.