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 India and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Doors to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thompson Twins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ornette Coleman,
Connie Case,
Erykah Badu,
Moss Icon,
Alton Ellis,
the Germs,
Scrapy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Faust,
The Moody Blues,
ABC,
Lindisfarne,
Magazine,
Scott Walker,
John Holt,
Charles Mingus,
Infiniti,
Stockholm Monsters,
Black Sheep,
Brand Nubian,
Dorothy Ashby,
Altered Images,
Jesper Dahlback,
Nick Fraelich,
A Certain Ratio,
Rosa Yemen,
Cal Tjader,
Hot Snakes,
Rapeman,
Davy DMX,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Yaz,
The Alarm Clocks,
Terry Callier,
Eric Copeland,
Roxette,
Malaria!,
Soft Cell,
The Toasters,
Ralphi Rosario,
Radio Birdman,
Sandy B,
Loose Ends,
New Age Steppers,
Ultravox,
Q65,
John Lydon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Blancmange,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
a-ha,
Sexual Harrassment,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Electric Prunes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pantytec,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Albert Ayler,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Heaven 17,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.