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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the marimba 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 Ten City to the techno 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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Cheater Slicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Sister Nancy,
The United States of America,
June of 44,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Red Krayola,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Throbbing Gristle,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
ABC,
L. Decosne,
Dennis Brown,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kas Product,
Crooked Eye,
The J.B.'s,
Arcadia,
Pylon,
Donald Byrd,
Marmalade,
Nik Kershaw,
Tres Demented,
Clear Light,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mary Jane Girls,
Crime,
F. McDonald,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sun Ra,
Yaz,
Monks,
The Five Americans,
The Angels of Light,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pantytec,
Colin Newman,
The Gun Club,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sound Behaviour,
Infiniti,
Talk Talk,
Brass Construction,
The Slits,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Amon Düül,
Skaos,
Ultra Naté,
Soft Cell,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ultravox,
Lalo Schifrin,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Star Department,
The Zeros,
Guru Guru,
Glambeats Corp.,
Camouflage,
Nico,
Bizarre Inc.,
Wings,
The Young Rascals,
The Gladiators,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
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.