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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 linndrum 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the punk 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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All Royal Trux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moleskins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
The Birthday Party,
Radio Birdman,
Suicide,
Severed Heads,
B.T. Express,
Magma,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Althea and Donna,
The Zeros,
Quando Quango,
Con Funk Shun,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Seeds,
Bush Tetras,
Carl Craig,
Funky Four + One,
Godley & Creme,
Simply Red,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Albert Ayler,
Graham Central Station,
T. Rex,
OOIOO,
Cal Tjader,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Five Americans,
the Soft Cell,
Main Source,
Parry Music,
The New Christs,
Soft Machine,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
ABC,
A Certain Ratio,
Marc Almond,
a-ha,
Terrestrial Tones,
Monolake,
Kaleidoscope,
Nirvana,
Yazoo,
Schoolly D,
Pussy Galore,
AZ,
Khruangbin,
The Black Dice,
Ohio Players,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bang On A Can,
The Gories,
The Fire Engines,
Davy DMX,
Eric B and Rakim,
Yusef Lateef,
Minor Threat,
The Moleskins,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.