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 Korea North and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Shanghai.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Cure to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Skriet,
Minnie Riperton,
Neu!,
Bootsy Collins,
The Knickerbockers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Associates,
the Soft Cell,
John Holt,
A Certain Ratio,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Warsaw,
Rosa Yemen,
Scion,
These Immortal Souls,
The Music Machine,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
L. Decosne,
Lou Reed,
Camberwell Now,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Soft Cell,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bad Manners,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Stockholm Monsters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Brothers Johnson,
The Residents,
Mary Jane Girls,
Blancmange,
Nik Kershaw,
Black Pus,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gang of Four,
Fad Gadget,
The Smoke,
The Slackers,
The Gories,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Young Marble Giants,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Delon & Dalcan,
Public Enemy,
The Velvet Underground,
Soul Sonic Force,
Soulsonic Force,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Black Sheep,
Girls At Our Best!,
Neil Young,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
T. Rex,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Echospace,
Harpers Bizarre,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.