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 Eritrea and from Houston.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gil Scott Heron to the disco 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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Associates record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Mad Mike,
Chris & Cosey,
Loose Ends,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Fat Boys,
Khruangbin,
Talk Talk,
Gabor Szabo,
Laurel Aitken,
Lyres,
Lightning Bolt,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Deepchord,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Germs,
Soul Sonic Force,
Alphaville,
Andrew Hill,
Eurythmics,
Bad Manners,
Lungfish,
Public Enemy,
Little Man,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Black Dice,
David Bowie,
Hoover,
Absolute Body Control,
Pet Shop Boys,
Roy Ayers,
The Young Rascals,
The Durutti Column,
A Certain Ratio,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Leaves,
Soulsonic Force,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Sound,
Theoretical Girls,
Average White Band,
The New Christs,
Chrome,
Monks,
Pantaleimon,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cheater Slicks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Index,
Los Fastidios,
B.T. Express,
Pere Ubu,
48th St. Collective,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Todd Rundgren,
Lou Reed,
Eli Mardock,
Alice Coltrane,
Half Japanese,
The Offenders,
Skarface,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.