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 Dominican Republic and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 8 Eyed Spy to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
Funkadelic,
The Standells,
B.T. Express,
Country Joe & The Fish,
K-Klass,
Circle Jerks,
Ash Ra Tempel,
T.S.O.L.,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Slave,
Arthur Verocai,
Alice Coltrane,
Oneida,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sister Nancy,
The Cowsills,
Pussy Galore,
Icehouse,
8 Eyed Spy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Agent Orange,
Das Ding,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
New Age Steppers,
Lou Christie,
Warren Ellis,
Rakim,
Lungfish,
Drive Like Jehu,
Andrew Hill,
48th St. Collective,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Second Layer,
Susan Cadogan,
Bootsy Collins,
Cheater Slicks,
OOIOO,
Amazonics,
Au Pairs,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Angels of Light,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Altered Images,
the Association,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Robert Hood,
Make Up,
Swell Maps,
Mr. Review,
Chris & Cosey,
Jeff Mills,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sarah Menescal,
Clear Light,
Rekid,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Sällskapet,
The Durutti Column,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain.
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.