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 Cuba and from Manila.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Men They Couldn't Hang 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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suburban Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Eurythmics,
Chrome,
Gregory Isaacs,
Monks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Morten Harket,
Black Moon,
Grey Daturas,
Surgeon,
Wasted Youth,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jacques Brel,
U.S. Maple,
Roger Hodgson,
Fat Boys,
The Real Kids,
Suicide,
Stetsasonic,
Lalann,
Fela Kuti,
Kenny Larkin,
Stockholm Monsters,
Motorama,
Smog,
Angry Samoans,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Wolf Eyes,
T.S.O.L.,
Supertramp,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Liliput,
Cybotron,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Country Teasers,
Robert Hood,
48th St. Collective,
Wire,
Animal Collective,
Interpol,
Parry Music,
Tommy Roe,
The Zeros,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pet Shop Boys,
Unwound,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Outsiders,
Skarface,
The Angels of Light,
The Raincoats,
Sex Pistols,
Magma,
The Trojans,
Zero Boys,
Pharoah Sanders,
Agitation Free,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cluster,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Trumans Water,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.