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 South Africa and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 theremin 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 Eric B and Rakim to the funk 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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry's Kids 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 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Sherman,
A Certain Ratio,
Fad Gadget,
Eddi Front,
Angry Samoans,
The Raincoats,
The Red Krayola,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Move,
Jimmy McGriff,
John Cale,
AZ,
Deadbeat,
Oneida,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Man Parrish,
Buzzcocks,
Goldenarms,
Japan,
Dawn Penn,
Bush Tetras,
Rekid,
The Standells,
the Fania All-Stars,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sun Ra,
Massinfluence,
Aswad,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Khruangbin,
Newcleus,
Black Pus,
The Moody Blues,
Talk Talk,
Darondo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bang On A Can,
Jesper Dahlback,
Grauzone,
Nas,
Los Fastidios,
Smog,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ralphi Rosario,
JFA,
Joe Smooth,
China Crisis,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Sound,
Eurythmics,
Y Pants,
Slave,
Juan Atkins,
Clear Light,
Robert Görl,
Soul Sonic Force,
Blancmange,
The Walker Brothers,
Heaven 17,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jacob Miller,
Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland.
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.