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 Papua New Guinea and from Lagos.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Normal. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes 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 Moleskins,
Suburban Knight,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Blues Magoos,
The Angels of Light,
the Human League,
Roy Ayers,
Lindisfarne,
Brand Nubian,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Circle Jerks,
The Monochrome Set,
Gabor Szabo,
Heaven 17,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gregory Isaacs,
Q and Not U,
Cameo,
Sandy B,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Altered Images,
Hoover,
Kurtis Blow,
Ituana,
Hashim,
Spandau Ballet,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Minutemen,
Curtis Mayfield,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Grauzone,
Radio Birdman,
The Fall,
Fugazi,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ten City,
Lou Reed,
X-101,
10cc,
Franke,
The Slackers,
The Mummies,
The Gories,
Urselle,
Bobby Sherman,
Derrick May,
the Association,
Cybotron,
Marmalade,
The Motions,
Todd Terry,
Jesper Dahlback,
Babytalk,
The Residents,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Television,
The New Christs,
A Certain Ratio,
Moebius,
Eric Copeland,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.