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 Poland and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Porter Ricks to the funk 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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul Sonic Force,
Subhumans,
Sight & Sound,
Gang Starr,
F. McDonald,
Excepter,
The Victims,
Faraquet,
Masters at Work,
Make Up,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Amazonics,
Grey Daturas,
a-ha,
Japan,
Cameo,
Intrusion,
DJ Style,
Peter and Kerry,
Jeff Lynne,
Gregory Isaacs,
Country Teasers,
Sam Rivers,
The Residents,
The Detroit Cobras,
Massinfluence,
Arab on Radar,
Robert Görl,
New Order,
Organ,
The Flesh Eaters,
Roxy Music,
Robert Wyatt,
Blossom Toes,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Derrick Morgan,
Ossler,
Joyce Sims,
The Busters,
Sonny Sharrock,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Real Kids,
Sandy B,
Royal Trux,
Slick Rick,
Gang of Four,
Slave,
Skriet,
The Smoke,
Animal Collective,
The Motions,
The Wake,
The Remains,
Mo-Dettes,
Sonic Youth,
The Evens,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lou Christie,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Inner City,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.