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 Nauru and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the grime 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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
T.S.O.L.,
The Searchers,
Kenny Larkin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
T. Rex,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Janne Schatter,
The New Christs,
Suicide,
Mission of Burma,
Donny Hathaway,
La Düsseldorf,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Victims,
Ponytail,
Intrusion,
Fela Kuti,
Crime,
Minny Pops,
Monks,
Robert Wyatt,
The Sound,
Mr. Review,
Bill Wells,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Neil Young,
The Barracudas,
8 Eyed Spy,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Music Machine,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Index,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Fuzztones,
The J.B.'s,
Sällskapet,
Anakelly,
MC5,
Fatback Band,
Surgeon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Heaven 17,
Sandy B,
Blake Baxter,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jerry's Kids,
Ohio Players,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Connie Case,
Dennis Brown,
Steve Hackett,
Young Marble Giants,
Talk Talk,
Popol Vuh,
Deakin,
Glambeats Corp.,
One Last Wish,
Bill Near,
David Axelrod,
Dawn Penn,
These Immortal Souls,
The Happenings,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.