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 Antigua and from Calgary.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
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 New York Dolls to the punk 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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Jacob Miller,
Alphaville,
Crooked Eye,
Joe Smooth,
Sun City Girls,
Rites of Spring,
Black Moon,
Yaz,
The Dave Clark Five,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Durutti Column,
Unwound,
Intrusion,
The Fire Engines,
Jacques Brel,
UT,
Man Parrish,
Judy Mowatt,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lucky Dragons,
Pere Ubu,
Black Flag,
Porter Ricks,
The Dirtbombs,
Erasure,
Leonard Cohen,
Connie Case,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Soft Cell,
Wire,
Idris Muhammad,
Sandy B,
Tears for Fears,
Adolescents,
Bobby Sherman,
The Vogues,
China Crisis,
Dead Boys,
Scan 7,
T. Rex,
Q and Not U,
Mars,
Rufus Thomas,
Youth Brigade,
Banda Bassotti,
The Real Kids,
Lou Christie,
Bill Near,
Bang On A Can,
The Red Krayola,
Barclay James Harvest,
Dark Day,
Model 500,
Ronan,
Masters at Work,
Urselle,
Scrapy,
Duran Duran,
Andrew Hill,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.