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 Algeria and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Rotary Connection to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Scrapy. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiopuhelimet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Sparks,
Josef K,
Slick Rick,
Pulsallama,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rakim,
Underground Resistance,
The Associates,
Thee Headcoats,
The Seeds,
Arthur Verocai,
Deepchord,
The Happenings,
Kayak,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fat Boys,
Minutemen,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Last Poets,
Parry Music,
Funkadelic,
the Fania All-Stars,
Maleditus Sound,
Deadbeat,
Rites of Spring,
Moss Icon,
Bill Near,
China Crisis,
Negative Approach,
Fear,
Black Sheep,
Lower 48,
Stiv Bators,
B.T. Express,
the Slits,
Siglo XX,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Organ,
Morten Harket,
The Divine Comedy,
New York Dolls,
Scrapy,
Aloha Tigers,
The Names,
Ludus,
Main Source,
The Barracudas,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Metal Thangz,
Warsaw,
Robert Wyatt,
Yellowson,
Marvin Gaye,
Crispy Ambulance,
Camouflage,
Heaven 17,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.