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 Belize and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Heaven 17 to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Grauzone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Guru Guru record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
Mark Hollis,
a-ha,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Interpol,
Colin Newman,
Toni Rubio,
A Certain Ratio,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Jimmy McGriff,
Robert Hood,
Blancmange,
Rekid,
Vladislav Delay,
Carl Craig,
AZ,
Warsaw,
The Move,
Todd Rundgren,
Groovy Waters,
Wire,
Make Up,
The Flesh Eaters,
Arab on Radar,
Sällskapet,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rufus Thomas,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Susan Cadogan,
Audionom,
Robert Görl,
Can,
The Slits,
Eden Ahbez,
Althea and Donna,
Yellowson,
Stockholm Monsters,
D'Angelo,
Connie Case,
Sound Behaviour,
Spoonie Gee,
Reuben Wilson,
Japan,
Tommy Roe,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pet Shop Boys,
Niagra,
K-Klass,
The Neon Judgement,
Fluxion,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bill Near,
T. Rex,
The Star Department,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Kinks,
Sixth Finger,
John Lydon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.