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 Milan.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 clarinet 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 Fat Boys to the rap 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 The Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalo Schifrin,
The Birthday Party,
PIL,
Inner City,
The Mojo Men,
Camouflage,
Desert Stars,
John Lydon,
Fugazi,
Interpol,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Symarip,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
MC5,
Derrick May,
The Cure,
Robert Hood,
Roxette,
The Litter,
Mr. Review,
Skaos,
Marvin Gaye,
Main Source,
Faraquet,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Velvet Underground,
Harpers Bizarre,
Wolf Eyes,
The United States of America,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Hoover,
Motorama,
Junior Murvin,
Lou Christie,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Yazoo,
UT,
Arcadia,
T. Rex,
Chris Corsano,
Slick Rick,
Khruangbin,
Nico,
Godley & Creme,
Banda Bassotti,
David Bowie,
Deakin,
the Swans,
These Immortal Souls,
Alphaville,
Los Fastidios,
Pole,
A Certain Ratio,
Reagan Youth,
Zero Boys,
Derrick Morgan,
Ornette Coleman,
Arthur Verocai,
Josef K,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.