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 Sri Lanka and from Edmonton.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Von Mondo to the electroclash 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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Bar-Kays,
Royal Trux,
X-101,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Arcadia,
Barry Ungar,
Mad Mike,
The Blackbyrds,
Qualms,
Harry Pussy,
Jeff Lynne,
Tears for Fears,
Isaac Hayes,
Oneida,
The Birthday Party,
Grandmaster Flash,
Arab on Radar,
Deadbeat,
Amon Düül,
Eve St. Jones,
Marc Almond,
Kerri Chandler,
The Smoke,
Goldenarms,
Lou Reed,
Jacob Miller,
Aswad,
The Pretty Things,
Tres Demented,
Eddi Front,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pharoah Sanders,
Warsaw,
Trumans Water,
The Gories,
ABBA,
Patti Smith,
Make Up,
T.S.O.L.,
Fela Kuti,
The Searchers,
Ice-T,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Slits,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The New Christs,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Gladiators,
Archie Shepp,
Dark Day,
The Modern Lovers,
Skaos,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Busters,
Adolescents,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Moody Blues,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Schoolly D,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.