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 Singapore and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Josef K to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Niagra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
David McCallum,
Pagans,
Michelle Simonal,
Zero Boys,
Kurtis Blow,
Second Layer,
The Leaves,
Danielle Patucci,
Lower 48,
Hasil Adkins,
Robert Hood,
Nick Fraelich,
Shoche,
Letta Mbulu,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eden Ahbez,
Fort Wilson Riot,
E-Dancer,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Five Americans,
Erasure,
The Human League,
Fluxion,
Spandau Ballet,
John Lydon,
Barclay James Harvest,
Harmonia,
X-101,
It's A Beautiful Day,
DJ Style,
Barbara Tucker,
Rufus Thomas,
Negative Approach,
Minny Pops,
Nico,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Trumans Water,
The Tremeloes,
The Last Poets,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Wire,
Q and Not U,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Schoolly D,
Aswad,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Depeche Mode,
The Dead C,
Drexciya,
Alice Coltrane,
Bronski Beat,
Symarip,
Roger Hodgson,
James White and The Blacks,
Man Parrish,
Sexual Harrassment,
Popol Vuh,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.