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 Papua New Guinea and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Copenhagen.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the güiro 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David McCallum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
K-Klass,
Gang Green,
Spandau Ballet,
The Mummies,
Das Ding,
Peter and Kerry,
ABC,
Youth Brigade,
Alphaville,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pharoah Sanders,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brass Construction,
The Standells,
Royal Trux,
The Knickerbockers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rakim,
Pantytec,
Lungfish,
Ice-T,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Livin' Joy,
The Fortunes,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Reuben Wilson,
Marc Almond,
Ken Boothe,
ABBA,
Iggy Pop,
Hot Snakes,
Joyce Sims,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Faraquet,
Pylon,
Animal Collective,
Idris Muhammad,
Traffic Nightmare,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Mars,
One Last Wish,
The Index,
Lakeside,
Harry Pussy,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Leaves,
The J.B.'s,
Harmonia,
Magazine,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Monochrome Set,
Siglo XX,
Cal Tjader,
AZ,
UT,
Kayak,
Boz Scaggs,
Joe Finger,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Arthur Verocai,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.