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 Moldova and from Delhi.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Tremeloes to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Franke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Metal Thangz,
Matthew Halsall,
Theoretical Girls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Connie Case,
Porter Ricks,
Fear,
Kenny Larkin,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Excepter,
The Beau Brummels,
Dennis Brown,
Don Cherry,
X-101,
Crooked Eye,
Bang On A Can,
Hot Snakes,
Dark Day,
Terry Callier,
MDC,
Rosa Yemen,
Rotary Connection,
Echospace,
Sparks,
Roxette,
Camberwell Now,
Bronski Beat,
Scan 7,
Urselle,
Essential Logic,
Boz Scaggs,
Darondo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
James White and The Blacks,
Quantec,
The Move,
Thompson Twins,
The Fall,
Con Funk Shun,
The Sound,
Wally Richardson,
T. Rex,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Aswad,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Altered Images,
Crime,
The Golliwogs,
Organ,
The Barracudas,
Donny Hathaway,
Magma,
Little Man,
The Moody Blues,
Royal Trux,
Erasure,
Dead Boys,
Fugazi,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox.
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.