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 Panama and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 808 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 Hot Snakes to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gastr Del Sol. All the underground hits.
All Mark Hollis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Guru Guru record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
Pantaleimon,
Anthony Braxton,
Pagans,
John Lydon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Rapeman,
Michelle Simonal,
Barrington Levy,
U.S. Maple,
June of 44,
Joe Smooth,
Steve Hackett,
Fad Gadget,
The Smoke,
Blossom Toes,
AZ,
The Fall,
Warsaw,
Chris & Cosey,
Man Eating Sloth,
Erasure,
Grauzone,
Depeche Mode,
Colin Newman,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Gories,
Porter Ricks,
Popol Vuh,
Bill Near,
the Swans,
the Human League,
Aswad,
Severed Heads,
Janne Schatter,
Loose Ends,
Boz Scaggs,
Joey Negro,
Vladislav Delay,
The Busters,
The Cowsills,
Fat Boys,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Pop Group,
Sonic Youth,
Yusef Lateef,
Kayak,
Angry Samoans,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Fugs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bluetip,
Eve St. Jones,
The Selecter,
The Tremeloes,
The Pretty Things,
The Gladiators,
The Shadows of Knight,
Icehouse,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.