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 Angola and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Adolescents,
Scratch Acid,
Harry Pussy,
CMW,
Bluetip,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Slits,
Pussy Galore,
Mark Hollis,
The Music Machine,
Jeff Lynne,
Bobby Sherman,
Pagans,
Animal Collective,
The Busters,
Subhumans,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
John Coltrane,
Stiv Bators,
Rakim,
Dennis Brown,
Cybotron,
Rapeman,
Camouflage,
Radiohead,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Detroit Cobras,
June Days,
X-Ray Spex,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Robert Wyatt,
Roxy Music,
Goldenarms,
Pharoah Sanders,
Khruangbin,
Rosa Yemen,
The Real Kids,
Minnie Riperton,
Popol Vuh,
Iggy Pop,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Dave Gahan,
Half Japanese,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Golliwogs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Last Poets,
Excepter,
U.S. Maple,
The Electric Prunes,
Niagra,
Quando Quango,
Con Funk Shun,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Fire Engines,
Barbara Tucker,
Thompson Twins,
Ludus,
The Fall,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance.
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.