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 Haiti and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Selecter to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Scott Walker,
Gregory Isaacs,
Mandrill,
Tomorrow,
Brothers Johnson,
Young Marble Giants,
Bobby Womack,
Kayak,
The Modern Lovers,
MDC,
The Knickerbockers,
The Associates,
Juan Atkins,
Television,
Donny Hathaway,
Eddi Front,
The Gladiators,
Talk Talk,
Tommy Roe,
Wolf Eyes,
Ituana,
Black Bananas,
Bobby Byrd,
Sarah Menescal,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Electric Prunes,
Deakin,
The Trojans,
Althea and Donna,
Radio Birdman,
Ralphi Rosario,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Fire Engines,
Inner City,
Vainqueur,
The New Christs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Harmonia,
the Soft Cell,
The Doobie Brothers,
Scratch Acid,
Rotary Connection,
New Order,
Bizarre Inc.,
Isaac Hayes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Seeds,
Moebius,
Mission of Burma,
Patti Smith,
Maleditus Sound,
Zapp,
Roy Ayers,
Pole,
Urselle,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ultravox,
Banda Bassotti,
Lungfish,
T. Rex,
Liliput,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.