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 Guyana and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 Winnipeg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lalann to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dave Gahan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Radio Birdman,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tommy Roe,
The Searchers,
Al Stewart,
Unwound,
Soul Sonic Force,
Shuggie Otis,
Arthur Verocai,
Underground Resistance,
Pantytec,
Sugar Minott,
Juan Atkins,
Harmonia,
X-101,
Donny Hathaway,
Stiv Bators,
The Five Americans,
The Dave Clark Five,
Thee Headcoats,
The Selecter,
Mark Hollis,
The Sound,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Amon Düül,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scott Walker,
The Birthday Party,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Tremeloes,
Monks,
Swans,
DNA,
Pharoah Sanders,
Letta Mbulu,
Outsiders,
Lungfish,
The Offenders,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bush Tetras,
World's Most,
the Fania All-Stars,
Deadbeat,
Sex Pistols,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Spandau Ballet,
Visage,
Kerri Chandler,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Minnie Riperton,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Curtis Mayfield,
Dave Gahan,
The Barracudas,
The Moody Blues,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.