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 Guinea and from Woodstock.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lille.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lee Hazlewood to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fatback Band,
Amazonics,
Iggy Pop,
Slave,
Blancmange,
The Seeds,
L. Decosne,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Unwound,
Cymande,
Fad Gadget,
cv313,
Joe Smooth,
The Fortunes,
Byron Stingily,
Cameo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Angels of Light,
Electric Prunes,
Pantaleimon,
The Smiths,
Whodini,
Bill Wells,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Fire Engines,
The Durutti Column,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Alarm Clocks,
John Holt,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pylon,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
KRS-One,
the Human League,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Crooked Eye,
Crime,
Model 500,
Black Pus,
Steve Hackett,
Quantec,
The Blackbyrds,
The Evens,
Bauhaus,
Lindisfarne,
Tim Buckley,
Marine Girls,
Joensuu 1685,
Ohio Players,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Pretty Things,
The Fuzztones,
Rufus Thomas,
The Busters,
The New Christs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Simply Red,
John Foxx,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.