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 Monaco and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 marimba 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 The Barracudas to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Alphaville tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Scott Walker,
The Kinks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Country Teasers,
Visage,
The Gladiators,
Deakin,
Bootsy Collins,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Selecter,
Pylon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Camberwell Now,
FM Einheit,
Roy Ayers,
Patti Smith,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lightning Bolt,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Swans,
Ornette Coleman,
Barry Ungar,
China Crisis,
The Gun Club,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
UT,
Echospace,
Eric Copeland,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Cramps,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Index,
Pulsallama,
Mandrill,
kango's stein massive,
Supertramp,
The Golliwogs,
Bobby Womack,
Radio Birdman,
The Grass Roots,
Con Funk Shun,
Spoonie Gee,
Q65,
Albert Ayler,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Harpers Bizarre,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
K-Klass,
Robert Görl,
Malaria!,
Khruangbin,
The Birthday Party,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Move,
Neu!,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Blues Magoos,
A Certain Ratio,
Jacques Brel,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bill Near,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.