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 Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 Philadelphia and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the grime 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 Dave Gahan. All the underground hits.
All Alphaville tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Steve Hackett,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Invisible,
U.S. Maple,
Joyce Sims,
Ralphi Rosario,
X-101,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ohio Players,
Joy Division,
the Normal,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Panda Bear,
The Seeds,
Icehouse,
Flamin' Groovies,
Can,
Althea and Donna,
Sun City Girls,
Chris Corsano,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tim Buckley,
The Cure,
Amon Düül,
Guru Guru,
Make Up,
Lower 48,
One Last Wish,
The Dave Clark Five,
a-ha,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Malaria!,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Red Krayola,
The Tremeloes,
The Cowsills,
Brothers Johnson,
Bad Manners,
Urselle,
Country Teasers,
Dead Boys,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sixth Finger,
Rakim,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Eddi Front,
The Buckinghams,
The Five Americans,
Agent Orange,
Buzzcocks,
Desert Stars,
Echospace,
Kenny Larkin,
Oneida,
the Bar-Kays,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Organ,
The Moody Blues,
Essential Logic,
LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J.
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.