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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 Taipei and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The American Breed to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Camberwell Now,
Infiniti,
The American Breed,
Wings,
the Fania All-Stars,
Subhumans,
Das Ding,
Lalo Schifrin,
Joey Negro,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Wolf Eyes,
The Buckinghams,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Eurythmics,
E-Dancer,
Whodini,
Lalann,
MDC,
Y Pants,
The Cowsills,
Todd Rundgren,
Pierre Henry,
UT,
Drexciya,
The Stooges,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Blossom Toes,
Ornette Coleman,
David Axelrod,
MC5,
Popol Vuh,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
L. Decosne,
Ronan,
Jawbox,
The Fall,
Bang On A Can,
Mantronix,
The Young Rascals,
The Fugs,
The Cramps,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Star Department,
The Mummies,
Terrestrial Tones,
T. Rex,
Kevin Saunderson,
Dawn Penn,
The Raincoats,
Lyres,
Frankie Knuckles,
Susan Cadogan,
Pylon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Tears for Fears,
Tommy Roe,
Flash Fearless,
Mr. Review,
Nico,
Procol Harum,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.