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 Nicaragua and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 It's A Beautiful Day to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Outsiders 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 linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
Marine Girls,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Whodini,
Stiv Bators,
The Techniques,
The Alarm Clocks,
Country Teasers,
Pussy Galore,
Q65,
Tres Demented,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Henry Cow,
Liliput,
Heaven 17,
Deakin,
The Kinks,
The Move,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ornette Coleman,
Rites of Spring,
Electric Prunes,
Lower 48,
Intrusion,
The Detroit Cobras,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
David Axelrod,
Graham Central Station,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Eurythmics,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Black Bananas,
Subhumans,
Harmonia,
Surgeon,
Hoover,
Bootsy Collins,
Grey Daturas,
Al Stewart,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Anthony Braxton,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Prince Buster,
Wasted Youth,
Kerri Chandler,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Dorothy Ashby,
Hardrive,
Johnny Clarke,
Bang On A Can,
Crime,
Outsiders,
The Raincoats,
Pere Ubu,
Jeff Mills,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Pop Group,
Isaac Hayes,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes.
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.