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 Comoros and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Toronto.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fugazi to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Minutemen,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Dirtbombs,
Barry Ungar,
the Bar-Kays,
New York Dolls,
Soft Cell,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Doors,
Pylon,
Spandau Ballet,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Young Rascals,
Maleditus Sound,
The Victims,
Television Personalities,
T. Rex,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Henry Cow,
Scion,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Quando Quango,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
FM Einheit,
Radiohead,
Sparks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Amon Düül,
DJ Style,
Gang Green,
Eurythmics,
Eve St. Jones,
Angry Samoans,
Arthur Verocai,
Josef K,
Johnny Clarke,
Underground Resistance,
John Holt,
Qualms,
The Knickerbockers,
Hot Snakes,
Yazoo,
The Walker Brothers,
Peter & Gordon,
The Pop Group,
Dual Sessions,
The Real Kids,
Alton Ellis,
Khruangbin,
Joe Smooth,
Tubeway Army,
Lindisfarne,
Albert Ayler,
The Human League,
The Blues Magoos,
Kas Product,
Stetsasonic,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mary Jane Girls,
Cameo,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.