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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 American Breed to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Newcleus. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bronski Beat,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pulsallama,
Severed Heads,
Bobby Byrd,
Roxy Music,
Mission of Burma,
Shoche,
the Soft Cell,
The Associates,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Robert Hood,
Kevin Saunderson,
Marmalade,
Talk Talk,
Iggy Pop,
Eddi Front,
Howard Jones,
Harry Pussy,
K-Klass,
Eve St. Jones,
June Days,
This Heat,
Rekid,
Lindisfarne,
Black Sheep,
Boogie Down Productions,
Von Mondo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Henry Cow,
the Human League,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Avey Tare,
The Martian,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jacob Miller,
Joensuu 1685,
Charles Mingus,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sister Nancy,
Roger Hodgson,
Ornette Coleman,
R.M.O.,
The Flesh Eaters,
Amon Düül II,
Royal Trux,
Sex Pistols,
The Alarm Clocks,
Crime,
Goldenarms,
Nirvana,
Blancmange,
DJ Style,
Camberwell Now,
The Smiths,
The Motions,
Hoover,
The Leaves,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.