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 Comoros and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the dance 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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Mark Hollis,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Tears for Fears,
Connie Case,
Kurtis Blow,
the Normal,
The Gap Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Marvin Gaye,
Sex Pistols,
Unwound,
Echospace,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Nas,
Moss Icon,
L. Decosne,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Wolf Eyes,
B.T. Express,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sugar Minott,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Arthur Verocai,
Crispy Ambulance,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Human League,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Angels of Light,
Dual Sessions,
Max Romeo,
Jacob Miller,
Ituana,
Scratch Acid,
Iggy Pop,
Motorama,
Flash Fearless,
The Raincoats,
Cluster,
Dorothy Ashby,
New Order,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Divine Comedy,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Victims,
Crime,
Pylon,
Public Enemy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Matthew Halsall,
Alison Limerick,
Rites of Spring,
Lyres,
Moebius,
Desert Stars,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.