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 Grenada and from Cairo.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Swans to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
Gabor Szabo,
The Misunderstood,
Jacques Brel,
Lebanon Hanover,
Zero Boys,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Red Krayola,
Vladislav Delay,
New York Dolls,
Crime,
Black Bananas,
Matthew Bourne,
Minny Pops,
Dave Gahan,
The Birthday Party,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mission of Burma,
T. Rex,
Brothers Johnson,
JFA,
Neil Young,
Sandy B,
Average White Band,
Black Pus,
John Cale,
Minutemen,
Patti Smith,
The Zeros,
Nas,
Judy Mowatt,
Wally Richardson,
Chrome,
Royal Trux,
Swell Maps,
Jeff Lynne,
Bauhaus,
The Litter,
Alison Limerick,
Ten City,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Young Rascals,
Altered Images,
Barry Ungar,
Lee Hazlewood,
Groovy Waters,
Soulsonic Force,
The Remains,
Robert Görl,
Roxette,
Wire,
Zapp,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
E-Dancer,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bobby Sherman,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.