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 United Kingdom 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Roger Hodgson to the jazz 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 The Moleskins. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Von Mondo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rakim,
Thee Headcoats,
Robert Görl,
the Swans,
Darondo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Monks,
The Monochrome Set,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Mad Mike,
Ten City,
X-101,
Todd Rundgren,
Fad Gadget,
The Cure,
The Dave Clark Five,
Charles Mingus,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fire Engines,
Piero Umiliani,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Johnny Osbourne,
Throbbing Gristle,
Radiohead,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Al Stewart,
Subhumans,
The Pretty Things,
The Beau Brummels,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Fuzztones,
Donald Byrd,
Agitation Free,
Ossler,
Sällskapet,
Morten Harket,
Bobby Sherman,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sixth Finger,
Dual Sessions,
Severed Heads,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Tubeway Army,
Arab on Radar,
The Skatalites,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Oneida,
Anthony Braxton,
Bizarre Inc.,
Laurel Aitken,
Intrusion,
the Human League,
Can,
The Moleskins,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.