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 Nauru and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Dead C to the rap 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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Niagra,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bauhaus,
8 Eyed Spy,
Au Pairs,
Dave Gahan,
Kerrie Biddell,
New Order,
Roy Ayers,
Hoover,
Agitation Free,
Barry Ungar,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Five Americans,
Fad Gadget,
Blossom Toes,
CMW,
Cameo,
Rhythm & Sound,
Minor Threat,
Sex Pistols,
Black Flag,
Sandy B,
Bob Dylan,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
MC5,
Ohio Players,
The Velvet Underground,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Warsaw,
Gang of Four,
Wally Richardson,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
A Certain Ratio,
Glenn Branca,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lucky Dragons,
Iggy Pop,
Frankie Knuckles,
UT,
Judy Mowatt,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Alison Limerick,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Saccharine Trust,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Todd Rundgren,
Howard Jones,
Gong,
The Knickerbockers,
The Grass Roots,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Symarip,
The Dirtbombs,
Black Bananas,
Accadde A,
The Stooges,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.