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 Solomon Islands and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Holger Czukay 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 Masters at Work to the grime 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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Television,
Little Man,
Nik Kershaw,
the Swans,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Count Five,
Lyres,
The Fall,
Grey Daturas,
Scrapy,
the Germs,
10cc,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Tubeway Army,
Sun City Girls,
Bill Wells,
The Blues Magoos,
Magazine,
Unrelated Segments,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jerry's Kids,
Girls At Our Best!,
Outsiders,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Red Krayola,
Kerrie Biddell,
Camberwell Now,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gang Starr,
Bauhaus,
Wasted Youth,
Scan 7,
Ten City,
Young Marble Giants,
The Cramps,
Supertramp,
The Alarm Clocks,
John Holt,
The Angels of Light,
Warren Ellis,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gabor Szabo,
Johnny Clarke,
Ultra Naté,
The Smiths,
Easy Going,
Monolake,
Roxette,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The New Christs,
Ronnie Foster,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Happenings,
Lindisfarne,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Livin' Joy,
John Foxx,
Jacob Miller,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.