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 Finland and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 rhodes 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 Porter Ricks to the electroclash 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin 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 arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Masters at Work,
Rosa Yemen,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tom Boy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Patti Smith,
Pierre Henry,
Fatback Band,
Agent Orange,
Harry Pussy,
Peter and Kerry,
The Evens,
Aaron Thompson,
Bad Manners,
Dawn Penn,
Animal Collective,
Marine Girls,
Inner City,
Eve St. Jones,
Hot Snakes,
Reagan Youth,
Johnny Osbourne,
ABBA,
Maurizio,
The Pretty Things,
Brick,
Youth Brigade,
Buzzcocks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Star Department,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
10cc,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bauhaus,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Neil Young,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Magazine,
Black Pus,
Easy Going,
Johnny Clarke,
Dual Sessions,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jerry Gold Smith,
June of 44,
the Normal,
Reuben Wilson,
the Soft Cell,
Alison Limerick,
The Doors,
Desert Stars,
F. McDonald,
Talk Talk,
Rotary Connection,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.