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 Turkmenistan and from Portland.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Lucky Dragons to the grime 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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harmonia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Delta 5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
Sex Pistols,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scratch Acid,
Arcadia,
Michelle Simonal,
Bill Near,
Jandek,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Associates,
Mars,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Electric Prunes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Names,
Angry Samoans,
48th St. Collective,
Spandau Ballet,
Andrew Hill,
Bobby Byrd,
Buzzcocks,
Pantytec,
Camouflage,
Interpol,
Laurel Aitken,
Brick,
Leonard Cohen,
Agent Orange,
Kaleidoscope,
Masters at Work,
Quadrant,
Charles Mingus,
Au Pairs,
Gang Gang Dance,
New York Dolls,
June of 44,
Average White Band,
MDC,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wings,
Moebius,
Avey Tare,
Alice Coltrane,
Howard Jones,
New Order,
Franke,
The Buckinghams,
Roxette,
Erykah Badu,
Juan Atkins,
Ohio Players,
Tim Buckley,
Talk Talk,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
ABBA,
James White and The Blacks,
Max Romeo,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Neil Young,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.