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 United Kingdom and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 snare 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 Mark Hollis to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
June of 44,
Rosa Yemen,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Little Man,
The Fire Engines,
The Red Krayola,
Popol Vuh,
Cymande,
Agent Orange,
The Fall,
Heaven 17,
Sex Pistols,
The Five Americans,
Moebius,
Bush Tetras,
Bang On A Can,
Wally Richardson,
The Cowsills,
Rhythm & Sound,
Dave Gahan,
Scrapy,
Todd Terry,
Terry Callier,
Sound Behaviour,
Pantytec,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Neon Judgement,
Harry Pussy,
Jerry's Kids,
Stetsasonic,
Second Layer,
The Barracudas,
Grauzone,
Soulsonic Force,
H. Thieme,
Monks,
Ronnie Foster,
The Invisible,
The Golliwogs,
Peter & Gordon,
The Zeros,
LL Cool J,
Derrick Morgan,
Magma,
The Kinks,
Skriet,
Barrington Levy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Matthew Bourne,
Thompson Twins,
Jacques Brel,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Godley & Creme,
Mo-Dettes,
This Heat,
Chrome,
KRS-One,
The Raincoats,
Banda Bassotti,
Guru Guru,
B.T. Express,
The Human League, The Human League, The Human League, The Human League.
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.