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 Samoa and from Johannesburg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the rock 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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All The Vogues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aloha Tigers,
Alice Coltrane,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Warren Ellis,
Marc Almond,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Urselle,
Ponytail,
The Blues Magoos,
The Move,
Pole,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Avey Tare,
David Axelrod,
the Normal,
Yaz,
Matthew Bourne,
Malaria!,
Wire,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Magazine,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sugar Minott,
Hashim,
The Buckinghams,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
June Days,
The Associates,
Bill Near,
Infiniti,
New Age Steppers,
Funky Four + One,
The Gladiators,
The Toasters,
The Residents,
Archie Shepp,
Mars,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Mission of Burma,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Vogues,
Con Funk Shun,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Can,
Motorama,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Skriet,
The Litter,
Mary Jane Girls,
K-Klass,
La Düsseldorf,
Quantec,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jeru the Damaja,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Mummies,
Lebanon Hanover,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.