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 Portugal and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 Portland and Tehran.
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 clarinet 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cosmic Jokers 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rekid,
X-Ray Spex,
48th St. Collective,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Seeds,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Soul Sonic Force,
Main Source,
The Fugs,
The Move,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Harmonia,
the Germs,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pantaleimon,
The Knickerbockers,
Albert Ayler,
Erasure,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Make Up,
Au Pairs,
Cymande,
Skriet,
Bauhaus,
The Star Department,
Fatback Band,
Janne Schatter,
Sparks,
Ornette Coleman,
R.M.O.,
Black Bananas,
Agitation Free,
T.S.O.L.,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Duran Duran,
Bobby Sherman,
Lakeside,
Ludus,
Fear,
Maleditus Sound,
The Grass Roots,
Radiohead,
Severed Heads,
Procol Harum,
Sandy B,
the Fania All-Stars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cluster,
Bush Tetras,
Simply Red,
The Evens,
cv313,
Al Stewart,
Max Romeo,
The Shadows of Knight,
Barrington Levy,
Reagan Youth,
In Retrospect,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
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.