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 Argentina and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the guitar 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 Michelle Simonal to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pere Ubu,
The Martian,
Jeff Lynne,
The Dave Clark Five,
kango's stein massive,
Quadrant,
Fela Kuti,
Inner City,
Minnie Riperton,
Anthony Braxton,
Organ,
Young Marble Giants,
Cameo,
Gang of Four,
Ludus,
Andrew Hill,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
U.S. Maple,
Brothers Johnson,
The Moleskins,
Mission of Burma,
Animal Collective,
X-102,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lindisfarne,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Swans,
The Barracudas,
Boredoms,
Yazoo,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Malaria!,
The New Christs,
Rapeman,
Faust,
Roxy Music,
Wolf Eyes,
Stereo Dub,
Vainqueur,
Joe Smooth,
The Birthday Party,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Roy Ayers,
Au Pairs,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bush Tetras,
The Tremeloes,
Letta Mbulu,
Patti Smith,
Max Romeo,
The Last Poets,
Skriet,
Urselle,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Gun Club,
The Toasters,
Davy DMX,
Man Parrish,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.