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 Azerbaijan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Q and Not U to the punk 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 Chocolate Watch Band. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Magazine,
Slick Rick,
Harpers Bizarre,
Angry Samoans,
Public Enemy,
Faust,
Joyce Sims,
The Selecter,
MC5,
Barrington Levy,
cv313,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
the Association,
Amazonics,
Porter Ricks,
Alphaville,
The Cure,
The Moleskins,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Pus,
Crime,
The Gladiators,
The Star Department,
Deakin,
Robert Wyatt,
The Searchers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
PIL,
Carl Craig,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bobby Byrd,
Popol Vuh,
Gerry Rafferty,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Frankie Knuckles,
Piero Umiliani,
Fatback Band,
Unwound,
Camberwell Now,
The Mummies,
Erasure,
Blancmange,
T. Rex,
Average White Band,
The Smoke,
X-Ray Spex,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rosa Yemen,
Gang of Four,
X-102,
Babytalk,
Crispian St. Peters,
Technova,
The Toasters,
Camouflage,
Quadrant,
Yellowson,
Absolute Body Control,
Mark Hollis,
Drexciya,
Excepter,
Nick Fraelich,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.