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 Iran and from Beijing.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Calgary.
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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Girls At Our Best! to the electroclash 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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Easy Going 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Axelrod record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Bar-Kays,
The Invisible,
H. Thieme,
James White and The Blacks,
Nico,
KRS-One,
Byron Stingily,
Porter Ricks,
Scion,
The Mummies,
Bill Near,
The Leaves,
AZ,
JFA,
Guru Guru,
Mad Mike,
the Association,
Avey Tare,
The Names,
the Normal,
Roxy Music,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ten City,
Eric Dolphy,
Man Parrish,
June Days,
Warsaw,
Supertramp,
The Sound,
Chris Corsano,
Mandrill,
Brothers Johnson,
Severed Heads,
Panda Bear,
The Smoke,
Dark Day,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Detroit Cobras,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Amazonics,
Bobbi Humphrey,
DNA,
Ken Boothe,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Soft Cell,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sex Pistols,
Lou Christie,
Kas Product,
E-Dancer,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lee Hazlewood,
The J.B.'s,
Sandy B,
T.S.O.L.,
Suburban Knight,
Joey Negro,
U.S. Maple,
Barrington Levy,
China Crisis,
The Evens,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.