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 Tajikistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 güiro 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 Average White Band to the electroclash 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 The Standells. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agitation Free,
Funky Four + One,
Black Flag,
PIL,
Stiv Bators,
Arthur Verocai,
Joe Finger,
Dead Boys,
Steve Hackett,
H. Thieme,
The Cure,
Make Up,
The Standells,
Matthew Halsall,
The Kinks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Charles Mingus,
Cal Tjader,
Faraquet,
Connie Case,
The Durutti Column,
Model 500,
Q65,
Boz Scaggs,
Gerry Rafferty,
X-101,
MC5,
Neil Young,
The Fire Engines,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Index,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Warsaw,
Pulsallama,
Scrapy,
Camouflage,
Little Man,
John Lydon,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Gun Club,
FM Einheit,
Sex Pistols,
John Holt,
Ronan,
Minor Threat,
Drive Like Jehu,
Barry Ungar,
The American Breed,
The Martian,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fatback Band,
Von Mondo,
The Mummies,
Freddie Wadling,
Soul Sonic Force,
Angry Samoans,
Ornette Coleman,
Rufus Thomas,
Loose Ends,
Warren Ellis,
Harry Pussy,
Flipper,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sister Nancy,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.