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 Peru and from Bremen.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Nation of Ulysses to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Bourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
The Tremeloes,
Suburban Knight,
John Foxx,
Popol Vuh,
Boredoms,
The Seeds,
Absolute Body Control,
Sun City Girls,
Minny Pops,
Swell Maps,
Los Fastidios,
The Misunderstood,
Harry Pussy,
Mandrill,
Rapeman,
Bronski Beat,
Joe Smooth,
Chris Corsano,
Soulsonic Force,
X-Ray Spex,
Q and Not U,
Harpers Bizarre,
Audionom,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Steve Hackett,
The Buckinghams,
Surgeon,
Dawn Penn,
June of 44,
The Offenders,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Crooked Eye,
These Immortal Souls,
the Germs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Main Source,
Ohio Players,
Country Teasers,
Todd Terry,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Hasil Adkins,
the Human League,
The Gladiators,
Alphaville,
Nik Kershaw,
Andrew Hill,
Mr. Review,
the Normal,
The Slits,
Jeru the Damaja,
Amon Düül II,
Rekid,
the Association,
Donny Hathaway,
Electric Prunes,
Jesper Dahlback,
Essential Logic,
AZ,
Lindisfarne,
The Last Poets,
Pagans,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.