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 Denmark and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 guitar 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 These Immortal Souls to the techno 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 Soulsonic Force. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skaos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Leonard Cohen,
John Lydon,
Andrew Hill,
Magma,
The Sonics,
Ice-T,
Khruangbin,
James White and The Blacks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Siglo XX,
Tears for Fears,
Soulsonic Force,
Animal Collective,
Visage,
Rod Modell,
Black Moon,
Pere Ubu,
Qualms,
Nils Olav,
Wire,
Eden Ahbez,
The Red Krayola,
The Neon Judgement,
Steve Hackett,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Happenings,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cybotron,
The Moleskins,
The Wake,
Bill Wells,
New Age Steppers,
Blake Baxter,
Reuben Wilson,
Clear Light,
Amon Düül,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Bar-Kays,
Lalann,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
This Heat,
Vainqueur,
Kerri Chandler,
Matthew Bourne,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Music Machine,
the Fania All-Stars,
World's Most,
Pulsallama,
Unrelated Segments,
Pet Shop Boys,
Theoretical Girls,
Severed Heads,
Drexciya,
The Tremeloes,
Tommy Roe,
T.S.O.L.,
The American Breed,
Donny Hathaway,
Chris & Cosey,
Morten Harket,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Q65,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.