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 Australia and from Lille.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Winnipeg.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Minor Threat to the rap 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Girls At Our Best!,
Godley & Creme,
Al Stewart,
Kurtis Blow,
Rufus Thomas,
Fugazi,
The Mummies,
Sly & The Family Stone,
B.T. Express,
Jacob Miller,
The Remains,
Freddie Wadling,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Audionom,
Royal Trux,
a-ha,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Electric Prunes,
Television Personalities,
The Tremeloes,
Kenny Larkin,
Qualms,
the Normal,
Minnie Riperton,
Skarface,
Lalo Schifrin,
Tres Demented,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Smoke,
Thompson Twins,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Silicon Teens,
The Barracudas,
The Fortunes,
Archie Shepp,
Saccharine Trust,
Wally Richardson,
Junior Murvin,
Todd Terry,
Jacques Brel,
Glenn Branca,
The Smiths,
Blancmange,
Ronnie Foster,
Tomorrow,
The Happenings,
Bluetip,
Kevin Saunderson,
kango's stein massive,
Tommy Roe,
Deakin,
Soul II Soul,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jimmy McGriff,
Joyce Sims,
Darondo,
Franke,
Crooked Eye,
Popol Vuh,
Ralphi Rosario,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.