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 Argentina 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Stiv Bators to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
Mr. Review,
Leonard Cohen,
the Germs,
Alice Coltrane,
Tommy Roe,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marine Girls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
David Bowie,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Robert Görl,
cv313,
Matthew Bourne,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Livin' Joy,
Procol Harum,
Monolake,
Deepchord,
Max Romeo,
Fear,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rites of Spring,
Carl Craig,
Bluetip,
Duran Duran,
This Heat,
Rapeman,
Neil Young,
Flamin' Groovies,
David McCallum,
Godley & Creme,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Motions,
Howard Jones,
John Cale,
Country Teasers,
Crash Course in Science,
Reagan Youth,
Mad Mike,
Man Eating Sloth,
Flash Fearless,
Buzzcocks,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Masters at Work,
Television Personalities,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Minutemen,
Guru Guru,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Five Americans,
Section 25,
Angry Samoans,
The Tremeloes,
Aural Exciters,
Unwound,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Toasters,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.