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 Dominica and from Copenhagen.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 arpeggiator 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 Toni Rubio to the techno 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 The Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Tubeway Army,
The Moleskins,
Steve Hackett,
Johnny Clarke,
Babytalk,
The Motions,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Robert Hood,
Lower 48,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Slave,
The Toasters,
Drexciya,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
John Coltrane,
Barry Ungar,
Pylon,
L. Decosne,
A Certain Ratio,
10cc,
La Düsseldorf,
The Trojans,
June of 44,
Urselle,
Sällskapet,
Jawbox,
Amon Düül,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Fortunes,
Sparks,
The Blackbyrds,
Ludus,
Rekid,
Thompson Twins,
Maurizio,
Rufus Thomas,
Can,
Public Image Ltd.,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Joyce Sims,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pole,
Fad Gadget,
Monks,
In Retrospect,
Lucky Dragons,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Alice Coltrane,
Mary Jane Girls,
Shoche,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Swans,
Suburban Knight,
Pet Shop Boys,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.