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 Marshall Islands and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Max Romeo to the grunge 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 The Saints. All the underground hits.
All Be Bop Deluxe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Human League,
kango's stein massive,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Kenny Larkin,
Nation of Ulysses,
Warren Ellis,
the Association,
Absolute Body Control,
L. Decosne,
The Misunderstood,
Quadrant,
Marc Almond,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Outsiders,
Lakeside,
Al Stewart,
Joy Division,
the Soft Cell,
Flamin' Groovies,
X-101,
The Buckinghams,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Main Source,
The Tremeloes,
Popol Vuh,
Young Marble Giants,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ronan,
Susan Cadogan,
Blancmange,
Brass Construction,
Howard Jones,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
Au Pairs,
The Slits,
Tres Demented,
The Velvet Underground,
Kerrie Biddell,
Excepter,
10cc,
Mark Hollis,
Pantaleimon,
Pylon,
Goldenarms,
Desert Stars,
The Flesh Eaters,
Graham Central Station,
Monolake,
Rakim,
Wolf Eyes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Unwound,
Blossom Toes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rapeman,
Shuggie Otis,
Fat Boys,
Ludus,
48th St. Collective,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Beau Brummels,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.