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 Belgium and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Kenny Larkin 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 Adolescents. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gap Band,
Crooked Eye,
X-Ray Spex,
X-101,
Marc Almond,
Laurel Aitken,
the Human League,
John Foxx,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Wake,
Jeff Lynne,
Basic Channel,
Gerry Rafferty,
Talk Talk,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Nirvana,
Alphaville,
The Techniques,
Bush Tetras,
Crime,
Ultra Naté,
Toni Rubio,
Howard Jones,
The Count Five,
Camouflage,
Cabaret Voltaire,
E-Dancer,
Kas Product,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Durutti Column,
The Leaves,
Dawn Penn,
The Toasters,
Connie Case,
Marmalade,
Don Cherry,
Bobby Womack,
Thee Headcoats,
Vladislav Delay,
Black Bananas,
Lower 48,
Letta Mbulu,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Organ,
Technova,
Aural Exciters,
Surgeon,
Scion,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Gun Club,
Main Source,
Arthur Verocai,
Liliput,
T.S.O.L.,
Hot Snakes,
Pere Ubu,
Mo-Dettes,
David Bowie,
Judy Mowatt,
Sight & Sound,
Jeff Mills,
Funky Four + One,
Pantytec,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.