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 Sri Lanka and from Seoul.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bremen.
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 mellotron 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 Scan 7 to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
Neu!,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sex Pistols,
Sister Nancy,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Agent Orange,
Black Sheep,
Mandrill,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Can,
Franke,
Aloha Tigers,
Donny Hathaway,
John Cale,
The Gladiators,
Severed Heads,
The Kinks,
Morten Harket,
Lou Christie,
Matthew Bourne,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Fugazi,
Joe Smooth,
Spoonie Gee,
Fad Gadget,
The New Christs,
Don Cherry,
Dark Day,
Interpol,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The J.B.'s,
Suburban Knight,
Blake Baxter,
Arthur Verocai,
Zero Boys,
Subhumans,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sällskapet,
Pantaleimon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Marine Girls,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
H. Thieme,
Mad Mike,
Iggy Pop,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rapeman,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rites of Spring,
Banda Bassotti,
Skarface,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Slick Rick,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Happenings,
Gang Green,
The Seeds,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.