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 Thailand and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba 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 Pierre Henry to the grunge 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 The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
The American Breed,
Harmonia,
Colin Newman,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
ABC,
The J.B.'s,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
UT,
The Saints,
Infiniti,
Quando Quango,
Lalo Schifrin,
Alphaville,
Hoover,
Terry Callier,
Lower 48,
The Music Machine,
Isaac Hayes,
Rotary Connection,
Bronski Beat,
Crispy Ambulance,
Panda Bear,
The Sound,
Erykah Badu,
Minny Pops,
Con Funk Shun,
Absolute Body Control,
The Blackbyrds,
The Last Poets,
Jacques Brel,
In Retrospect,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bad Manners,
Japan,
Schoolly D,
Radiohead,
Tears for Fears,
Flamin' Groovies,
Shoche,
Alton Ellis,
Chris & Cosey,
Gerry Rafferty,
Howard Jones,
Blossom Toes,
Tom Boy,
Das Ding,
The Fortunes,
Mark Hollis,
The Litter,
Delon & Dalcan,
Amon Düül II,
Dave Gahan,
Desert Stars,
Todd Rundgren,
Throbbing Gristle,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.