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 New Zealand and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the organ 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 The Techniques to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New York Dolls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Todd Rundgren,
The Blues Magoos,
The Knickerbockers,
Sex Pistols,
Ornette Coleman,
The United States of America,
Mars,
Cymande,
Brass Construction,
John Coltrane,
The Cure,
Eden Ahbez,
Sugar Minott,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Desert Stars,
Theoretical Girls,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jeru the Damaja,
Main Source,
Barrington Levy,
Youth Brigade,
John Foxx,
The Doors,
Nico,
Al Stewart,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pylon,
Fatback Band,
B.T. Express,
Jawbox,
Ludus,
Quando Quango,
Ossler,
Iggy Pop,
Essential Logic,
Dennis Brown,
Y Pants,
Second Layer,
The Index,
Adolescents,
Joyce Sims,
Slick Rick,
New York Dolls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jerry's Kids,
Swans,
Clear Light,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bill Wells,
Boredoms,
Robert Görl,
Man Eating Sloth,
Hasil Adkins,
Subhumans,
One Last Wish,
The Misunderstood,
Echospace,
Gang Green,
Aloha Tigers,
The Dead C,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.