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 Slovakia and from Manila.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Leonard Cohen to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Moby Grape. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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 Real Kids,
Shoche,
The Trojans,
Ronan,
Warsaw,
Lou Reed,
Aaron Thompson,
In Retrospect,
Leonard Cohen,
John Lydon,
Wolf Eyes,
Black Pus,
Marmalade,
Motorama,
The Kinks,
Eric Dolphy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Monks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Stiv Bators,
Minny Pops,
Popol Vuh,
the Germs,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Matthew Bourne,
The Selecter,
Brass Construction,
Nick Fraelich,
Eurythmics,
Au Pairs,
Connie Case,
Scion,
X-Ray Spex,
Sun City Girls,
Iggy Pop,
the Swans,
Buzzcocks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
R.M.O.,
The Leaves,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Visage,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pierre Henry,
Anakelly,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Blackbyrds,
Magma,
Tubeway Army,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dennis Brown,
Lower 48,
Pylon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Moebius,
Byron Stingily,
Grauzone,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.