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 Algeria and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Joy Division to the dance 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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express 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 snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
Groovy Waters,
The Names,
Bob Dylan,
The Gap Band,
The Fall,
Sparks,
Gang Starr,
Drexciya,
The Gories,
Prince Buster,
Organ,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Morten Harket,
Scratch Acid,
Ultravox,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Rapeman,
Metal Thangz,
Lightning Bolt,
Siglo XX,
Wire,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Stereo Dub,
The Modern Lovers,
Livin' Joy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The American Breed,
Arab on Radar,
the Association,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Crispy Ambulance,
Suburban Knight,
The Gladiators,
Au Pairs,
Angry Samoans,
Harry Pussy,
The Martian,
The Kinks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
A Certain Ratio,
Blossom Toes,
Terrestrial Tones,
Moebius,
Ronnie Foster,
Malaria!,
Youth Brigade,
Faust,
Amon Düül II,
Camouflage,
Simply Red,
Johnny Osbourne,
Quantec,
Frankie Knuckles,
Trumans Water,
Ohio Players,
Essential Logic,
Soulsonic Force,
London Community Gospel Choir,
OOIOO,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.