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 Cairo.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Cure to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar 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 organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Kerri Chandler,
Animal Collective,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Five Americans,
Interpol,
Harpers Bizarre,
John Holt,
cv313,
The Velvet Underground,
The Red Krayola,
48th St. Collective,
Make Up,
Excepter,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Iggy Pop,
Jeff Lynne,
Carl Craig,
Girls At Our Best!,
Glambeats Corp.,
Guru Guru,
Morten Harket,
The Detroit Cobras,
Hasil Adkins,
The Leaves,
Scientists,
Arthur Verocai,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fear,
Audionom,
Wally Richardson,
The Smiths,
U.S. Maple,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Arab on Radar,
Pussy Galore,
Niagra,
David McCallum,
Rhythm & Sound,
Deadbeat,
The Trojans,
The Human League,
Pet Shop Boys,
MC5,
Skaos,
The Slackers,
Leonard Cohen,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eric Dolphy,
Stereo Dub,
Joyce Sims,
Isaac Hayes,
Slave,
Althea and Donna,
Pierre Henry,
Ponytail,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gang Gang Dance,
Symarip,
Pharoah Sanders,
Electric Prunes,
The Names,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.