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 Iran and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Philadelphia.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
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 The Walker Brothers to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Christie,
Yazoo,
Dave Gahan,
Scan 7,
The Techniques,
Andrew Hill,
Arthur Verocai,
Hot Snakes,
Ossler,
E-Dancer,
Henry Cow,
Duran Duran,
Kurtis Blow,
Jesper Dahlback,
Tomorrow,
Yaz,
Eden Ahbez,
Roger Hodgson,
MC5,
Ludus,
Royal Trux,
Motorama,
Warsaw,
Angry Samoans,
Ornette Coleman,
China Crisis,
Sällskapet,
The Litter,
Skaos,
Janne Schatter,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Echospace,
The Misunderstood,
Animal Collective,
Max Romeo,
Sandy B,
D'Angelo,
Toni Rubio,
Moebius,
Liliput,
Soft Machine,
Whodini,
Cheater Slicks,
Bill Wells,
Scratch Acid,
Black Bananas,
The Moleskins,
Au Pairs,
Sparks,
Blossom Toes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Deepchord,
The New Christs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Idris Muhammad,
John Foxx,
Archie Shepp,
Ponytail,
Khruangbin,
Qualms,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jawbox,
The Pretty Things,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.