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 Belarus and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 spring reverb 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 Quando Quango to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Sonics,
Y Pants,
The Dave Clark Five,
Soulsonic Force,
Oneida,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Donald Byrd,
Ken Boothe,
The Tremeloes,
Circle Jerks,
Quando Quango,
Lungfish,
Harry Pussy,
Scion,
Warsaw,
The Divine Comedy,
Robert Wyatt,
The Smoke,
Jacques Brel,
Thompson Twins,
Rufus Thomas,
Newcleus,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bob Dylan,
Sexual Harrassment,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Electric Prunes,
Depeche Mode,
The Durutti Column,
The Knickerbockers,
Darondo,
Reagan Youth,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Joe Smooth,
Sixth Finger,
Ohio Players,
The Moody Blues,
Malaria!,
Sun Ra,
These Immortal Souls,
Eve St. Jones,
Jesper Dahlback,
Wally Richardson,
Outsiders,
Bluetip,
Pantytec,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soft Machine,
Barrington Levy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Mojo Men,
Man Parrish,
Rosa Yemen,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Dead C,
Aloha Tigers,
The Real Kids,
The Doors,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.