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 Cameroon and from Calgary.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 rhodes 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 Sun City Girls to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Roger Hodgson,
E-Dancer,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sun City Girls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Young Marble Giants,
Brand Nubian,
Blake Baxter,
Rotary Connection,
The Star Department,
Absolute Body Control,
B.T. Express,
Fugazi,
Slick Rick,
The Walker Brothers,
Hasil Adkins,
New York Dolls,
Cecil Taylor,
DNA,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Public Enemy,
Alphaville,
The Monks,
Pylon,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eddi Front,
The Standells,
The Dave Clark Five,
Black Pus,
Sexual Harrassment,
Shuggie Otis,
The Remains,
The Cowsills,
Barrington Levy,
The New Christs,
Avey Tare,
Barbara Tucker,
Y Pants,
This Heat,
Alison Limerick,
Procol Harum,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Suicide,
The Dead C,
Aswad,
Erasure,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Robert Görl,
Thee Headcoats,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Junior Murvin,
Bill Near,
Minny Pops,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Faust,
Fad Gadget,
Radiohead,
R.M.O.,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Rapeman,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.