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 Serbia and from Bologna.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Jacques Brel to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hoover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
the Germs,
Jeff Mills,
The Mojo Men,
Toni Rubio,
The Martian,
Malaria!,
Cymande,
Yaz,
Flash Fearless,
Joey Negro,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Human League,
Suburban Knight,
The Fugs,
Oneida,
Rosa Yemen,
Roxy Music,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Walker Brothers,
Pulsallama,
The Star Department,
Scan 7,
Deepchord,
Ultravox,
Janne Schatter,
Dawn Penn,
Porter Ricks,
The Smoke,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Mummies,
Minutemen,
Maurizio,
Stereo Dub,
B.T. Express,
Deakin,
The Misunderstood,
Sarah Menescal,
Q65,
Bill Near,
The Sound,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Boredoms,
Maleditus Sound,
Nas,
Organ,
Television,
Tom Boy,
The Cramps,
Sun City Girls,
June of 44,
Judy Mowatt,
Fela Kuti,
The Gories,
Fad Gadget,
The Real Kids,
Delta 5,
Unrelated Segments,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Vladislav Delay,
Tres Demented,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.