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 Togo and from Woodstock.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bobby Sherman to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fuzztones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Mojo Men,
Pantaleimon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Monks,
Blancmange,
Mad Mike,
MC5,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Real Kids,
Crispy Ambulance,
Roger Hodgson,
Be Bop Deluxe,
John Lydon,
Little Man,
Dorothy Ashby,
Massinfluence,
Barclay James Harvest,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Stetsasonic,
Terry Callier,
The Standells,
Gang of Four,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Modern Lovers,
Nick Fraelich,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Siglo XX,
Sarah Menescal,
Albert Ayler,
Severed Heads,
Don Cherry,
Agent Orange,
Yazoo,
Henry Cow,
Eurythmics,
Joyce Sims,
Hashim,
Motorama,
The Beau Brummels,
The Buckinghams,
Pole,
Icehouse,
the Bar-Kays,
Average White Band,
Goldenarms,
Loose Ends,
Bauhaus,
Hot Snakes,
Frankie Knuckles,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mo-Dettes,
Robert Görl,
The Fall,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Soft Cell,
Heaven 17,
The Birthday Party,
Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin.
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.