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 Bhutan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 oboe 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 T.S.O.L. to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every MC5 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes 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 Toasters,
the Swans,
Sister Nancy,
The Durutti Column,
Albert Ayler,
The Index,
Drexciya,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Five Americans,
The Barracudas,
Roxy Music,
Popol Vuh,
Soul II Soul,
Johnny Osbourne,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bobby Byrd,
New York Dolls,
Minutemen,
Yellowson,
a-ha,
The Wake,
Kenny Larkin,
The Remains,
Los Fastidios,
James White and The Blacks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Blues Magoos,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sex Pistols,
The Fuzztones,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Amon Düül,
Barry Ungar,
Boogie Down Productions,
Television,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kevin Saunderson,
Prince Buster,
Crispian St. Peters,
Monolake,
Pet Shop Boys,
Hoover,
Dorothy Ashby,
Derrick Morgan,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sonic Youth,
Aaron Thompson,
Eve St. Jones,
Anakelly,
Grey Daturas,
Technova,
Bill Wells,
Funky Four + One,
Pussy Galore,
Wings,
Harpers Bizarre,
Negative Approach,
Mary Jane Girls,
Colin Newman,
the Human League,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.