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 Niger and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 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 Make Up to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
Matthew Halsall,
Desert Stars,
Heaven 17,
David Axelrod,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Normal,
Crooked Eye,
Tres Demented,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Alphaville,
Duran Duran,
Organ,
Wings,
Roger Hodgson,
Donald Byrd,
The Associates,
Darondo,
The Fuzztones,
Bizarre Inc.,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Trumans Water,
One Last Wish,
Tomorrow,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
These Immortal Souls,
Neu!,
Todd Rundgren,
The Shadows of Knight,
Man Eating Sloth,
Severed Heads,
Mars,
The Divine Comedy,
Pylon,
Fad Gadget,
Slick Rick,
Curtis Mayfield,
Wire,
Bobby Sherman,
Grey Daturas,
Nico,
The Monks,
Freddie Wadling,
Dual Sessions,
Blancmange,
Nils Olav,
Youth Brigade,
Young Marble Giants,
Amazonics,
Suburban Knight,
The Zeros,
Aloha Tigers,
Half Japanese,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Swell Maps,
Johnny Clarke,
Audionom,
Peter & Gordon,
Ken Boothe,
Malaria!,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.