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 Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 spring reverb 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 Sound Behaviour to the techno 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 Faust. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Brand Nubian,
Black Pus,
Agent Orange,
Wally Richardson,
Popol Vuh,
Sonic Youth,
Blossom Toes,
Roy Ayers,
the Soft Cell,
UT,
Tommy Roe,
Derrick May,
Inner City,
Henry Cow,
Model 500,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
June of 44,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Delta 5,
Alphaville,
Bobby Womack,
Magazine,
Darondo,
Carl Craig,
The Motions,
Symarip,
Average White Band,
David McCallum,
Susan Cadogan,
Maurizio,
Josef K,
The Blues Magoos,
Dark Day,
Ohio Players,
Vladislav Delay,
Traffic Nightmare,
Adolescents,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nation of Ulysses,
Matthew Halsall,
John Cale,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sex Pistols,
Judy Mowatt,
Spandau Ballet,
Todd Terry,
The Index,
U.S. Maple,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Silicon Teens,
Amon Düül II,
Robert Hood,
The J.B.'s,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lightning Bolt,
EPMD,
The Pop Group,
Von Mondo,
Amon Düül,
Aural Exciters,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.