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 Belize and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 synthesizer 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 Clear Light to the rock 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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Mary Jane Girls,
Drexciya,
Essential Logic,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Prince Buster,
Severed Heads,
Shoche,
Stockholm Monsters,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bootsy Collins,
L. Decosne,
The Raincoats,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rekid,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mission of Burma,
ABBA,
Basic Channel,
The Litter,
Arcadia,
Boogie Down Productions,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jacob Miller,
Rosa Yemen,
Television Personalities,
Agitation Free,
The Blackbyrds,
The Residents,
Tres Demented,
U.S. Maple,
Black Bananas,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Busters,
Radio Birdman,
Con Funk Shun,
Avey Tare,
Newcleus,
Sex Pistols,
MDC,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Fugs,
The Alarm Clocks,
One Last Wish,
Lightning Bolt,
Throbbing Gristle,
Faust,
Eddi Front,
John Lydon,
Parry Music,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Gap Band,
Robert Wyatt,
Monolake,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Royal Trux,
Index,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Pus,
Das Ding,
Animal Collective,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.