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 Bangladesh and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Buzzcocks to the rock 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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Little Man tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Invisible record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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 Normal,
Josef K,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Minutemen,
Marvin Gaye,
Neu!,
the Soft Cell,
Hashim,
John Coltrane,
Warsaw,
Patti Smith,
Monolake,
Von Mondo,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Slits,
Y Pants,
Reuben Wilson,
Cheater Slicks,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Mummies,
Wire,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kerrie Biddell,
Joyce Sims,
Cameo,
T. Rex,
FM Einheit,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gastr Del Sol,
Chris & Cosey,
The Fuzztones,
Pet Shop Boys,
Black Pus,
Gong,
Excepter,
Wasted Youth,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Moebius,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cal Tjader,
The Neon Judgement,
Boredoms,
Unwound,
Mary Jane Girls,
Godley & Creme,
Marc Almond,
The Toasters,
Ultra Naté,
Sixth Finger,
Rekid,
The Doobie Brothers,
B.T. Express,
Pantaleimon,
Nick Fraelich,
The Skatalites,
Wally Richardson,
Hoover,
Unrelated Segments,
The Move,
The Names,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.