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 Malta and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Cheater Slicks to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Visage. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
Yusef Lateef,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Cowsills,
Harry Pussy,
The Cure,
Susan Cadogan,
Smog,
Inner City,
Andrew Hill,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
John Cale,
The United States of America,
Gang Green,
Barrington Levy,
June of 44,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nik Kershaw,
Ludus,
Organ,
Funkadelic,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
A Certain Ratio,
The Monks,
Fear,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Chris & Cosey,
Steve Hackett,
the Human League,
Pylon,
The Leaves,
Cheater Slicks,
The Moody Blues,
Max Romeo,
Reagan Youth,
The Velvet Underground,
Joyce Sims,
the Normal,
Gil Scott Heron,
Brand Nubian,
the Bar-Kays,
Glenn Branca,
Slave,
Scratch Acid,
The Blackbyrds,
Unrelated Segments,
New Age Steppers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Eve St. Jones,
Bob Dylan,
June Days,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Beau Brummels,
Ponytail,
Camouflage,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Mojo Men,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
EPMD,
Aural Exciters,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.