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 Estonia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sex Pistols to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Matthew Halsall,
Howard Jones,
Sound Behaviour,
Monolake,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Hardrive,
The Angels of Light,
Eve St. Jones,
The Modern Lovers,
John Coltrane,
Skaos,
Iggy Pop,
The Slackers,
Kas Product,
Oblivians,
Patti Smith,
Rapeman,
The Litter,
Liliput,
The Young Rascals,
Siglo XX,
K-Klass,
Silicon Teens,
The Birthday Party,
Frankie Knuckles,
Supertramp,
The United States of America,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crime,
Pharoah Sanders,
Isaac Hayes,
Sällskapet,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sight & Sound,
Subhumans,
Matthew Bourne,
David McCallum,
Wire,
Cheater Slicks,
John Lydon,
U.S. Maple,
Gong,
The Dead C,
The Martian,
Erasure,
the Germs,
Duran Duran,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Spandau Ballet,
Wally Richardson,
Trumans Water,
Dave Gahan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jesper Dahlback,
Toni Rubio,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Evens,
Qualms,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.