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 Ivory Coast and from Mexico City.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kas Product to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All cv313 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Guru Guru record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
AZ,
Black Bananas,
Kerrie Biddell,
Soul Sonic Force,
Alton Ellis,
Letta Mbulu,
Rapeman,
Scott Walker,
Subhumans,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gang Green,
Sun City Girls,
Bobby Byrd,
Cluster,
Steve Hackett,
Ten City,
Byron Stingily,
Lee Hazlewood,
Simply Red,
The Happenings,
R.M.O.,
Quantec,
Khruangbin,
Nils Olav,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Severed Heads,
The Raincoats,
Sister Nancy,
Blancmange,
Neu!,
The Blues Magoos,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Average White Band,
The Motions,
The Toasters,
Lucky Dragons,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rosa Yemen,
Nation of Ulysses,
Animal Collective,
Marc Almond,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Alarm Clocks,
Infiniti,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bobby Womack,
Tears for Fears,
Buzzcocks,
The Black Dice,
Matthew Bourne,
Underground Resistance,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Magma,
Rites of Spring,
John Cale,
Unrelated Segments,
Icehouse,
The Durutti Column,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.