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 Botswana and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Cal Tjader to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All Flash Fearless tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
The Skatalites,
L. Decosne,
Scratch Acid,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Con Funk Shun,
The Invisible,
World's Most,
D'Angelo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The New Christs,
Max Romeo,
Can,
ABBA,
Circle Jerks,
Glenn Branca,
Pierre Henry,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Minutemen,
A Certain Ratio,
Severed Heads,
Outsiders,
Babytalk,
Television,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bill Wells,
The Golliwogs,
Sight & Sound,
Panda Bear,
Roxy Music,
Henry Cow,
The Cowsills,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Frankie Knuckles,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Country Teasers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Eric Copeland,
Jandek,
The Associates,
Brass Construction,
Masters at Work,
Khruangbin,
Alton Ellis,
Eve St. Jones,
The Victims,
Oneida,
Davy DMX,
Al Stewart,
Qualms,
Delta 5,
Nation of Ulysses,
Electric Prunes,
Magma,
The Dirtbombs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Aswad,
Pere Ubu,
Mark Hollis,
Mantronix,
Grauzone,
Yellowson,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.