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 Guinea and from Houston.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Sunsets and Hearts to the funk 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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Ultravox,
Neil Young,
Blancmange,
Black Moon,
Blake Baxter,
The Stooges,
Scion,
Wasted Youth,
Al Stewart,
Yellowson,
Ten City,
Althea and Donna,
Grey Daturas,
Blossom Toes,
June Days,
Idris Muhammad,
Alison Limerick,
The Last Poets,
The Moleskins,
Stiv Bators,
Bobby Byrd,
Eddi Front,
Erykah Badu,
Howard Jones,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Throbbing Gristle,
Barclay James Harvest,
Franke,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Boz Scaggs,
Icehouse,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Country Teasers,
Motorama,
Avey Tare,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bobby Sherman,
Joyce Sims,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Doobie Brothers,
Nas,
The Human League,
Negative Approach,
Reuben Wilson,
The Saints,
The Martian,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Das Ding,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Residents,
Joey Negro,
Soul Sonic Force,
Rakim,
Pere Ubu,
Minor Threat,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Angels of Light,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.