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 Lithuania and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Nirvana to the crunk 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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Livin' Joy,
Iggy Pop,
Eddi Front,
Jeru the Damaja,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ken Boothe,
Khruangbin,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gregory Isaacs,
Thee Headcoats,
Roger Hodgson,
Jacques Brel,
Technova,
The Sound,
David Axelrod,
The Cowsills,
Quando Quango,
Gong,
Carl Craig,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Walker Brothers,
Todd Rundgren,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Kinks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Crispy Ambulance,
Severed Heads,
Malaria!,
Traffic Nightmare,
Don Cherry,
Crispian St. Peters,
Excepter,
The Shadows of Knight,
The J.B.'s,
The Detroit Cobras,
Interpol,
Radio Birdman,
Magma,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Searchers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Arthur Verocai,
Eric B and Rakim,
Aswad,
Harry Pussy,
John Cale,
The Red Krayola,
Rapeman,
Sarah Menescal,
New Order,
Marc Almond,
The Mummies,
Smog,
Quadrant,
the Bar-Kays,
Pierre Henry,
Ice-T,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.