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 France and from Manila.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Edmonton.
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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Sad Lovers and Giants 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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Monolake,
Tim Buckley,
Spandau Ballet,
Boredoms,
Infiniti,
Matthew Bourne,
Lou Reed,
Parry Music,
Ultravox,
The Index,
Black Moon,
Khruangbin,
Dual Sessions,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cameo,
kango's stein massive,
Marine Girls,
Gong,
Chris Corsano,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Rakim,
Jeff Mills,
Eden Ahbez,
Shoche,
The Last Poets,
Laurel Aitken,
John Holt,
The Trojans,
Toni Rubio,
The Toasters,
Clear Light,
Black Pus,
The Invisible,
Pantytec,
Yaz,
Rosa Yemen,
Nick Fraelich,
JFA,
The Associates,
10cc,
Gang of Four,
Simply Red,
X-102,
Scratch Acid,
Bauhaus,
F. McDonald,
Maurizio,
The Barracudas,
The Fortunes,
Suicide,
Lalann,
Audionom,
The Music Machine,
Ultra Naté,
L. Decosne,
Ralphi Rosario,
Crooked Eye,
Sonny Sharrock,
Con Funk Shun,
Das Ding,
In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect.
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.