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 Korea North and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the güiro 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 Supertramp to the jazz 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Blancmange,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Fire Engines,
The Walker Brothers,
Howard Jones,
The Fuzztones,
Zapp,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Birthday Party,
Dave Gahan,
Nik Kershaw,
DJ Style,
The Remains,
Bobbi Humphrey,
One Last Wish,
U.S. Maple,
Franke,
Wally Richardson,
Moebius,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dead Boys,
New Age Steppers,
The Misunderstood,
Lungfish,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Todd Rundgren,
Kool Moe Dee,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Crooked Eye,
Matthew Bourne,
Jawbox,
48th St. Collective,
Country Teasers,
R.M.O.,
Suburban Knight,
Fluxion,
John Cale,
Eric Copeland,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kerrie Biddell,
Vladislav Delay,
Angry Samoans,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pole,
Moby Grape,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Knickerbockers,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Doobie Brothers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
10cc,
World's Most,
Gang Starr,
Drexciya,
Max Romeo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ponytail,
The Pretty Things,
Althea and Donna,
Barrington Levy,
June of 44,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.