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 Cape Verde and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Max Romeo to the dance 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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
Monks,
Sandy B,
Gang Green,
Radio Birdman,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Patti Smith,
Chrome,
Harmonia,
Robert Hood,
LL Cool J,
Nas,
Eli Mardock,
The Shadows of Knight,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gichy Dan,
Wire,
Cymande,
Von Mondo,
The Angels of Light,
Excepter,
The Flesh Eaters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
JFA,
Morten Harket,
Deepchord,
Graham Central Station,
David Axelrod,
The Fuzztones,
June Days,
The Fortunes,
The Gun Club,
Arab on Radar,
Soul II Soul,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Traffic Nightmare,
CMW,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Birthday Party,
In Retrospect,
Rod Modell,
The Barracudas,
Young Marble Giants,
a-ha,
Tubeway Army,
Throbbing Gristle,
Marine Girls,
the Bar-Kays,
The Zeros,
Pantaleimon,
Dave Gahan,
Isaac Hayes,
Saccharine Trust,
Hoover,
Supertramp,
Roger Hodgson,
Sixth Finger,
Skarface,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.