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 Albania and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
The Count Five,
Audionom,
Scientists,
Tropical Tobacco,
Los Fastidios,
Mission of Burma,
The Slackers,
Gang Starr,
Joey Negro,
Rakim,
Roy Ayers,
Excepter,
Model 500,
Flash Fearless,
Niagra,
the Germs,
Sonic Youth,
Wolf Eyes,
Yazoo,
The Music Machine,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Surgeon,
X-102,
The Misunderstood,
PIL,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eden Ahbez,
Grandmaster Flash,
Clear Light,
the Normal,
Bobby Byrd,
Colin Newman,
Joe Finger,
This Heat,
Marc Almond,
Dave Gahan,
CMW,
Lebanon Hanover,
Morten Harket,
Lalann,
Soul II Soul,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sixth Finger,
Minnie Riperton,
The Black Dice,
Faraquet,
Technova,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Golliwogs,
Mark Hollis,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Names,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Monochrome Set,
Gang of Four,
Lower 48,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
LL Cool J,
Junior Murvin,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Suburban Knight,
Eric Copeland,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.