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 Thailand and from Manchester.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Country Teasers to the funk 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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Eurythmics,
Audionom,
E-Dancer,
Wings,
New Age Steppers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Birthday Party,
Dave Gahan,
Minutemen,
Lou Christie,
Roxette,
John Coltrane,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Alton Ellis,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mark Hollis,
The Moleskins,
Dennis Brown,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marcia Griffiths,
Harmonia,
Eli Mardock,
Grey Daturas,
the Swans,
The Gun Club,
Fugazi,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Sound,
Gang of Four,
Deepchord,
DJ Style,
The Walker Brothers,
Aaron Thompson,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Steve Hackett,
Cecil Taylor,
Stockholm Monsters,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Barry Ungar,
Pantaleimon,
Barclay James Harvest,
Minor Threat,
Y Pants,
David Bowie,
Half Japanese,
Masters at Work,
Moebius,
Patti Smith,
Mr. Review,
Barbara Tucker,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
This Heat,
In Retrospect,
Eric Dolphy,
Marine Girls,
Jeff Mills,
Ten City,
Boz Scaggs,
Flipper,
Tears for Fears,
Magazine,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.