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 Spain and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Yellowson to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gary Puckett & The Union Gap record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
F. McDonald,
Erasure,
Grauzone,
Joyce Sims,
Bobby Sherman,
K-Klass,
Massinfluence,
Minny Pops,
Kurtis Blow,
The Real Kids,
Slick Rick,
Cybotron,
Second Layer,
The American Breed,
Morten Harket,
The Martian,
Camouflage,
ABC,
Brick,
World's Most,
Ash Ra Tempel,
John Cale,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Theoretical Girls,
Amon Düül,
Bobby Byrd,
Ultimate Spinach,
Underground Resistance,
Lightning Bolt,
Saccharine Trust,
Ituana,
Stereo Dub,
Loose Ends,
The Leaves,
Q and Not U,
The Stooges,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jeff Lynne,
Ultravox,
Scion,
Heaven 17,
Das Ding,
Rakim,
Joe Smooth,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fall,
Pylon,
Ken Boothe,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Accadde A,
Can,
Aaron Thompson,
Make Up,
Index,
Ornette Coleman,
Michelle Simonal,
Tomorrow,
The Moody Blues,
Roxette,
10cc,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.