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 Togo and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Echo & the Bunnymen to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 David Axelrod. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
The Busters,
Gong,
The Golliwogs,
Mandrill,
The Moleskins,
Duran Duran,
a-ha,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Glenn Branca,
Skaos,
B.T. Express,
Skarface,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Nirvana,
Sex Pistols,
Quando Quango,
Bush Tetras,
The Dave Clark Five,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Nik Kershaw,
Maleditus Sound,
The American Breed,
The Mummies,
Talk Talk,
Con Funk Shun,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
LL Cool J,
Dead Boys,
Al Stewart,
ABBA,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Wake,
Joyce Sims,
DJ Sneak,
Stiv Bators,
Scientists,
John Lydon,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Five Americans,
Black Moon,
Cymande,
Stereo Dub,
The Birthday Party,
Ituana,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Man Eating Sloth,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jerry's Kids,
Slave,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gastr Del Sol,
Popol Vuh,
Wasted Youth,
Goldenarms,
Terrestrial Tones,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
John Coltrane,
Sam Rivers,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.