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 Kiribati and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Leonard Cohen to the electroclash 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 The Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Moody Blues,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Shoche,
The Fugs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Crime,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Smiths,
Fela Kuti,
Fear,
the Bar-Kays,
Soft Cell,
The Sound,
Icehouse,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Saints,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pulsallama,
Skarface,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sam Rivers,
Kerri Chandler,
X-101,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Crooked Eye,
Zero Boys,
Deepchord,
CMW,
The Grass Roots,
China Crisis,
The Gories,
Radiopuhelimet,
E-Dancer,
Maurizio,
Simply Red,
Franke,
Freddie Wadling,
Michelle Simonal,
The Standells,
Severed Heads,
The Happenings,
New Age Steppers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ludus,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Soulsonic Force,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Prince Buster,
Warren Ellis,
Fatback Band,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Erasure,
Sugar Minott,
Connie Case,
Funkadelic,
The Stooges,
Bobby Womack,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.