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 Laos and from Lille.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 marimba 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 Pussy Galore to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Fela Kuti,
Magma,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Lyres,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Trumans Water,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Girls At Our Best!,
Warsaw,
Aswad,
Dave Gahan,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
New York Dolls,
World's Most,
Public Image Ltd.,
Vainqueur,
Laurel Aitken,
Deepchord,
Sixth Finger,
Main Source,
New Age Steppers,
Jawbox,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bobby Byrd,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Michelle Simonal,
Massinfluence,
Matthew Bourne,
Tropical Tobacco,
Crime,
Chris Corsano,
La Düsseldorf,
Radiopuhelimet,
Moby Grape,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Intrusion,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Smoke,
Pantytec,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
X-101,
Section 25,
John Lydon,
Stiv Bators,
Cluster,
Robert Hood,
Gang Gang Dance,
Liliput,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Smiths,
Boz Scaggs,
The Wake,
Mars,
Drexciya,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Patti Smith,
Jeff Lynne,
Crispy Ambulance,
Prince Buster,
48th St. Collective,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.